


we're not friends, we could be anything

by nooelgallagher, yoursongonmyheart



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blowjobs, Body Worship, Bottom Harry, Bottom Louis, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Kink Exploration, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Rimming, Sexual Tension, Shower Sex, Skype Sex, Slight Pain Kink, Top Harry, Top Louis, blindfolding, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:49:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 115,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7873252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nooelgallagher/pseuds/nooelgallagher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoursongonmyheart/pseuds/yoursongonmyheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The next second, Harry is firing back, “If I wanted to kill you I could have just poisoned your fajitas.”</p><p>Louis rolls his eyes. “Clever boy.”</p><p>Harry feels his skin start to prickle with irritation. The way Louis talks to him, so condescending... Like he’s smarter than Harry… Fuck that.</p><p>“I don’t have time for this,” Harry says. “Some of us have schoolwork to do. And jobs to get to. So if you’ll excuse me.”</p><p>Harry doesn’t wait for a reply before he pushes past Louis, hoisting his bag further up his shoulder and rushing towards the door. No, not rushing. That would imply Louis is chasing him out. He walks to the door hastily.</p><p>He’s not sure, but he thinks he hears Louis mutter “Fucking wanker” before the door to the flat clicks shut behind him.</p><p> </p><p>...Or, the one where Harry and Louis are unlikely uni flatmates who definitely don't like each other and definitely won't fall in love (even if Liam and Niall think otherwise).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fall Semester A

**Author's Note:**

> Six months ago we joked that this would be 80k. It was supposed to be a joke. And then this happened.
> 
> We did take some artistic liberties with some of the university details; Louis' master's program is based on a hybrid of degrees actually offered by the University of Leeds while Harry, Liam, and Niall's programs do exist. This story was based on the University of Leeds academic calendar for 2014-2015. Some details were altered or embellished for the sake of the story. Please forgive any mistakes in British terminology; if there is any glaringly obvious miswording, we'll be happy to edit accordingly. This is a work of fiction, so any inaccuracies are a result of that, and this is all meant in good fun.
> 
> Vicky would like to dedicate this story to her beloved feline companion Kallie, who passed away during the writing of this story. She used to give Vicky judgy looks while she was writing, and you haven't experienced awkward until you've had a cat staring at you while writing a sex scene.
> 
> This has been a true labor of love. We hope you enjoy it.

For some students, the start of a new semester is stressful. For Harry Styles, the start of the new semester is really fucking stressful.

He had a feeling when he’d accepted his internship at a top music publishing company that he might be overextending himself, but it was an opportunity he could not pass up. Going into his third and final year of uni was going to be chaotic as it was, but the internship on top of that did not bode well for his sanity. Still, he’d weighed the pros and cons and decided that he could suffer for a few months. A few things would just have to take a backseat, that’s all. Like normal sleeping hours. And dating. Or sex. Eating a meal three times a day. But he could do it. His mum had faith in him, at least.

It also didn’t help that his fourth roommate had decided to up and leave three weeks before, leaving himself and his best friends scrambling for rent money and another roommate. Niall, Liam, and Harry had been living in similar quarters since their first year, when Niall had introduced himself wearing nothing but boxer briefs, parading around the dorms. Liam and Harry had been forced together as roommates but Niall they had chosen, the three of them forming a unit tackling university together.

They had decided to get a flat near the campus. It was a great deal for four roommates, from what they could tell, and there were no signs of suspicion yet. Except now there was only the three of them left to pay, and quite frankly Harry was so annoyed when everything happened he left Niall and Liam to take care of finding someone new. They apparently had posted on the school’s boards and Facebook (though Harry suspects Niall isn't above seedier methods if it gets to be panic time).

So Harry was about to be paying too much rent, threatening to overwork himself with a internship he couldn’t pass up, and also in his last year with a double course load in English and Music, which meant one thing: thesis.

Yeah, this semester was going to be great.

\----

Louis Tomlinson is probably going to scream if his baby sister throws her bowl at him one more time. He loves being home, loves being surrounded by four sisters and a pair of toddler twins. He absolutely loves it. Except it’s very tiring when he’s trying to order his books, and email the teacher he’s teaching with the entirety of his graduate year, and tell the older twins (yes there are two sets of twins) to stop responding to texts from silly boys (he himself should have followed that advice as a teenager).

It’s by chance that about a month before he’s due to return to Leeds for his graduate year that he saw a post by his friend Niall on Facebook at arse-o’clock in the morning about him and his roommates needing a fresh body to fill out their flat. Louis had been stressing a bit about returning to student accommodations this year, not having fond memories from the last three years at Leeds, and Niall is always a laugh. He’d texted Niall then and there asking for details.

Not surprisingly, Niall replied right away, even though it was almost four in the morning at that point. Apparently the fourth roommate in their flat bailed at the last minute, leaving them in the lurch and scrambling for another person to pay the fourth share of the rent. Louis had never met the other two lads, some guy named Liam who Niall claims can punch a hole clear through a wall (“You should see his biceps, Tommo, I swear.” Sometimes Louis wonders about Niall.) and a guy named Harry that Niall has known since his first year. Louis figures neither one of them can be as bad as his roommate his second year at uni, a guy named Ted, who honestly ate tuna at the most inopportune times, making the room reek almost constantly. They’re all still doing their undergrad work, but they’re in their third year, so Louis isn’t too worried.

Starting student teaching in a year two classroom close to campus, Louis had been looking for somewhere to live that wasn’t riddled with children, toys, cell phones, and diapers. His family was the most important part of his life, but with teaching taking so much of his time he needed space to be creative and to decompress after his day job. Home wasn’t going to cut it for this year, not with the amount of work he had. And definitely not with the commuting distance.

Louis places the bowl back on his sister’s high chair for the fifth time, and waits patiently for his mum to get home so he can finish packing up the last of his things. He hears his mum come through the door, and practically leaps out of his seat to help her bring in the groceries so he can be relieved from babysitting and continue packing.

His sister throws the bowl one more time and Louis sighs. Hopefully he won’t be living with toddlers.

His mum has had that look on her face for a few weeks now, the one that tells Louis she's sad that he's leaving to go back to school. It's only one more year, and he's not sure where he'll end up after that, but fortunately Leeds isn't far. It's tough for his mum and stepdad to get everyone together to visit Louis at school, the Tomlinson-Deakin clan a large group when all together, but he hopes this year they might. He misses them a lot.

His room is exactly the same as when he left for his first year at uni. A Rovers poster sits above his bed. His closet has old trainers and cleats that should probably be thrown away spilling out from the bottom. He refuses to get rid of the emerald green duvet he's had since he was 13, all shabby looking but worn in and comfortable. It smells like home. He'll be taking it with him back to Leeds.

Louis looks back at his closet and sighs. He’s got a lot of work to do.

\----

Harry is juggling takeaway from lunch, the paperwork from the internship he needed to go get printed (because their old roommate was the only one with a printer and of course the fucker took it with him), and his phone (through which his mother was just ranting to him about his sister), when he walks through the doorway to his flat. The sight that greets him has him momentarily thinking he walked into the wrong one.

First of all, there are boxes everywhere. Second, Niall’s voice is absolutely bellowing from one of the bedrooms, Irish accent thick as ever before he cracks up loudly. Liam’s laugh is also found, but then there’s a high, light laugh that Harry doesn’t recognize.

His eyes rake boxes as he drops the takeaway and paperwork on the kitchen counter before heading towards the living room.

Niall and Liam are walking toward him from down the hall, smiles on their faces.

Harry eyes them curiously. “What’s going on back there?”

His friends pause as they get close to him, smiles fading a bit but still present. A loud bang sounds from one of the bedrooms and Harry raises an eyebrow.

“Haz!” Niall shouts, though there really is no reason to shout, and walks forward, pulling Harry into a one-armed hug. “How was your internship?”

Harry hugs Niall back but doesn’t answer his question. “What’s with the boxes?”

Liam shuffles back and forth in place, eventually crossing his arms over his chest. “We were just back helping Louis move his stuff into his room.”

“Louis?” Harry repeats, taking a step back as Niall finally releases him. “What?”

Liam’s forehead creases in confusion, like Harry is completely daft. “Louis,” Liam says more slowly. “Louis Tomlinson. Our new flatmate.”

Harry stares at them for a moment. Fuck. That was today? He’d completely forgotten. He kind of remembers Liam calling into his room last night as Harry was pulling out his outfit for his first day of his internship, reminding him that their new flatmate was moving in the following afternoon. In the whirlwind of the day though, orientation and meeting new people and filling out paperwork and just the general stress of the whole day, it had just...slipped his mind.

Now that he’s reminded, though, he takes a second to take in the state of the flat. Boxes are piled next to the door. There’s a laundry bag that looks like it’s filled with shoes half-open next to the pile, and a stack of shirts haphazardly placed on the seat of the armchair Harry usually sits in. Another bang sounds from the bedrooms, and Harry can feel the thin shreds of his sanity start to snap.

“How do we know this Louis again?” Harry asks.

Niall shrugs, “We have the same drug dealer.”

Harry stares at Niall for a moment, before closing his eyes and trying to take a calming breath. Harry wants to ask if he’s joking. But he knows Niall isn’t joking.

He looks to Liam for some sort of reassurance. “Please Liam, tell me you knew of this. Please be a voice of rationality.”

Liam looks caught, eyes already starting to take on the puppy look that has gotten him out of more than one uncomfortable situation. “Well, not _explicitly_ -”

“Liam,” Harry says again.

“I knew Niall knew him through Zayn, yes, but only _after_ Niall told me Louis texted him after seeing his post on Facebook for a new flatmate. I just thought he was just one of Niall’s friends.”

“What does it matter, anyway?” Niall cuts in, shooting a look at Harry that Harry suspects is meant to be judgmental. “He can pay his share of the rent. Tommo is cool. What’s the problem?”

“You met him through a drug dealer!” Harry yells shrilly. “Do you even know what drugs he does? Do you know anything about him other than the drugs? How can we trust him?” Harry rambles loudly, running a hand through his hair. “You can’t just pick _whoever_ , Niall.”

“You told me and Liam to handle it,” Niall reminds him, “because you were _too busy_. Remember that?”

Liam is looking back and forth between Niall and Harry now, a sad lilt to his mouth. “Guys, it’s fine.”

“It’s not _fine_ , Liam,” Harry rounds on him. “I just came home after a long fucking day of work to see my flat covered in shit - someone _else’s_ shit. We don’t know anything about this guy, apart from his drug dealer, and you expect me to be okay with it? Fuck, he could be a dealer too. Or an addict!”

A cough from behind them cuts Harry’s rant off, and the three friends turn to see a fourth figure leaning against the wall.

The first things Harry sees are _arms_ . The guy - their new flatmate - _Louis_ is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, biceps on full display in his black tank top. The second things Harry sees are the tattoos that litter his right arm and the few he has on the left. The scooped neck of his tank exposes hints of another tattoo across his collarbone, and a fine trail of hair that disappears beneath the fabric. Harry gulps and finally takes in Louis as a whole, and he’s pretty sure he stops breathing for a second when he drags his eyes down Louis’ torso. Too-long joggers hang low on his hips, waist supporting his weight against the wall, and Harry tries to ignore the heat that flares in his own cheeks when his eyes linger on Louis’ thighs stretching the material. Harry feels his heart pound heavily in his chest when he reaches his face. Stubble lines Louis’ chin and cheeks, the beginnings of a beard forming across his face. His thin lips are set into a firm, annoyed line and blue ( _blue blue blue_ ) eyes stare back at him coldly.

“Pretty sure I could piss in a cup and pass a test just fine if I wanted to right now.” His Yorkshire accent is thick, voice sharp.

Harry wants to shrink under his cold, narrow-eyed glare, but he also refuses to back down. “We don’t know anything about you,” he states dryly. “I’m allowed to be concerned about the random new person moving into my flat.”

Louis cuts him off, “So everyone who has a dealer is automatically an addict or a dealer themselves?” he asks carefully. “Never mind the fact that your own friend and flatmate,” he pauses, looking pointedly at Niall, “has a dealer and you don’t seem to have a problem with him.”

Harry huffs, staring at Louis. He’s 95% sure he’s pouting and not in the usual cute way that always results in him getting what he wants. But in the, ‘I’m completely flustered let me fucking speak’ way.

“I’m just saying-” Harry starts off again, hoping that his gaze is piercing enough that Louis gets the hint to stop fucking interrupting him.

But of course he doesn’t.

“So it’s just me, then?” Louis gives it right back, his hip cocked. Harry tries not to think about it. “I smoke pot and that automatically makes me completely untrustworthy? Not even going to give me a chance, Curls?”

Harry bites his lip to keep the retort from flying out of his mouth.

Louis gaze flits over Niall and Liam, who Harry had momentarily forgotten were even in the same room still. “Do you think I deserve a chance, Niall? I mean, we do know each other. Albeit only when passing money to Zayn.”

Niall stifles a laugh, looking at the three of them. His gaze settles on Harry and Harry feels his skin prickle uncomfortably under the attention, but he keeps his face stoic. “He’s living with us. Case closed. Fucking deal with it, Harry.”

Niall turns and walks toward his bedroom, shooting one more unimpressed look at Harry before he starts to laugh, cackles following him down the hall.

Liam, who had been quiet through the whole exchange, raises his arms up in defeat and moves to follow Niall, a little helplessly, a sheepish smile on his face. “It was nice to meet you, Louis.”

Louis smiles at Liam sweetly, before turning back to Harry.

He gives him one onceover, blue eyes trailing over Harry’s entire body in a way that makes Harry feel hot and cold all at once, before pushing himself off the wall, and retreating back to his room wordlessly.

Harry grits his teeth, his nose flaring and he does not stare at Louis’ ass as he walks away. He does not.

Abandoned by his friends and new flatmate, Harry turns to gather his things where he left them in the kitchen. He shoves his leftovers in the fridge with a bit more force than is strictly necessary and grabs his internship paperwork from the counter. He retreats to his bedroom, cheeks still red and irritation still simmering in his blood.

He feels a bit guilty as he kicks his boots off next to his door and collapses on his bed. On any other day he might not have reacted like that, but today… Well, today was not the day for good first impressions.

It doesn't matter. Harry can already tell Louis is insufferable. He wouldn't let Harry talk (Harry's brain unhelpfully supplies that Harry did plenty of talking when he was loudly accusing Louis of being a potential drug addict or dealer) and he made a huge mess of the flat. Honestly, who brings that many boxes with them from home? Harry has too much on his plate already to worry about or even help a guy in his, what, early twenties? He could do that himself.

No. Harry settles it right then and there. The less he sees of Louis Tomlinson, the better.

\----

There’s a soft knock on Louis’ door, a blonde tuft of hair peeking in right behind it.

“Can I come in?” Niall asks curiously, eyeing the mess of Louis’ room. He has made quite a dent in getting all his clothes put away, but he keeps thinking of ideas for lesson plans and getting distracted. He’s got a lot on his plate with student teaching and, while the classroom he’s working in seems great, he knows he has to show up with some ideas and knowledge of the school beforehand.

“Yeah, sure mate. Find a spot if you can,” Louis grins.

Niall laughs easily, closing the door behind him and sitting on the unmade bed.

“So,” Niall drags out the word, hands nervously stuffed in his pockets.

“What’s up?” Louis quirks his eyebrows at him. “You’re not kicking me out because of that tall ass hipster are you?”

Niall cackles loudly. “No,” he laughs again. “You two will like each other soon enough. I know it. Always meant to introduce ya to my friends. Never got around to it,” Niall shrugs. “No, I was actually wondering if you actually did have any weed on you,” he whispers the last bit, as if he’s afraid someone would hear him.

Louis stares at him for a beat before dropping the clothes he was about to put in his closet and cracking up.

“God,” Louis laughs, “You are really fucking something, Niall Horan.”

Niall looks at him expectantly, blue eyes mischievous.

Louis shakes his head, “I haven’t got anything. Been too afraid to smoke, thinking that the first day I start at the school they might drug test me or summat. Haven’t had a joint in weeks.”

Niall whistles wistfully. “That sucks man.”

“I know, but I’ll manage. If I make it the first couple weeks I should be fine. Then we can light up here, get your roommates all nice and pissed off.” 

Niall gets up, moving towards the boxes. “That sounds like an excellent idea, my friend. I knew it was a good idea to bring you on as a flatmate.”

Louis hands him a box. “That’s my sex toys. You can stash them under the bed.”

Niall yelps and drops the box, making it clamor loudly while Louis cackles.

“I’m just kidding mate. It’s just some stuff for student teaching. You can put it by the desk. You don’t have to help though, I’ll be able to manage meself.”

Niall looks at the boxes on the floor and then walks to the door, peering out into the living room.

He shakes his head, “Nah man, you’re going to need all the help you can get. You’ve got too many clothes and too many materials. Need to clear out the living room first before Harry throws a shit fit. He’s a bit of a clean freak. But don’t tell him I said that.”

Louis smirks. Yes, he was mildly offended that he’s going to be a school teacher and at one description and glance at him someone assumed he was a drug dealer, or an addict. Someone who was tall, had legs for days with jeans that were practically painted on. Someone with long brown curls that fell just right onto his shoulders and who obviously thought that wearing colorful blouses was a trend that was in (even though it fucking worked for him). Yeah, he was mildly miffed by that someone automatically assuming that of him. So a little revenge, giving a little back to him, sounded like a perfect idea to Louis.

“Leave them,” Louis decides, watching Niall grin sort of helplessly at Louis’ antics. “We’ll do those last.”

“We’re going to have a lot of fun, Tommo.” Niall claps his hand on Louis’ back, smile unbelievably wide.

Louis thinks of a long torso, a flared nose, pursed lips, and green, green eyes.

“Yeah,” Louis almost snorts, “we’re going to have _loads_ of fun.”

\----

Harry is lying flat on his back on his bed, guitar poised over his stomach as he strums a melancholy tune when a soft knock taps at his door.

“Come in,” he calls in a dry voice.

A second later his door is pushed open and Liam is stepping inside, shutting the door firmly behind him. He doesn’t say anything, and neither does Harry. Harry continues to stare up at his ceiling as he plays a few different notes, bottom lip bitten between his teeth.

After a moment, Liam finally speaks: “I hope you know you embarrassed yourself this afternoon.”

Harry stops playing.

“And I wish you would just explain that you’re stressed instead of copping out on stupid excuses like, ‘Oh, he could be a drug dealer or an addict’. Come on, Harry.”

When Harry still doesn’t talk, Liam strides across the short distance between the door and Harry’s bed. He pushes at Harry’s side until Harry scoots over and makes room. Then he hops onto the bed next to him and lays down, their heads sharing Harry’s pillow.

“What are you playing?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper as Harry starts to pick up the tune again.

“A couple different things,” Harry finally answers, “I like mashing ‘em up. To see what works and what doesn’t.”

“Hmm,” Liam nods, like he has the slightest clue about anything to do with music. “How was your internship?”

“Good,” Harry replies. “Long. Stressful. Gave me a headache.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I have leftovers from lunch,” Harry says, though thinking back to the curry he’d gotten earlier means he’d have to go out to the kitchen, where he will almost certainly run into Niall who is still probably pissed at him for the way he treated Louis. Or, if fate really wants to kick him in the balls, he’ll run into Louis, too. No thanks. He thinks he has some crisps in his desk.

“I could order us a pizza,” Liam suggests quietly.

Harry stops playing again, turning his whole head on the pillow to look at Liam. Liam is watching him with a small smile, eyes crinkled just barely at the corners. His look wouldn’t give it away, but Harry is pretty sure Liam knows exactly what’s going through Harry’s mind right now.

“You’re not going to yell at me?” Harry asks, trying to keep his voice even but a crack at the end gives him away.

Liam doesn’t reply for a moment, that soft, fond smile never leaving his face. Finally: “No. I get it. But I do think you need to apologize, though.”

Harry huffs. “Liam.”

“He’s nice, Harry,” Liam continues. “I don’t know him too well but he seems like an alright lad. He’s doing his graduate year. He did Psychology. He’s smart and pretty funny.”

“Do I need to tell Trevor you have straying eyes?” Harry jokes, nudging Liam in the shoulder with his own.

Liam doesn’t rise to the bait. “I’m just saying. I understand you acted out because you were overwhelmed, but that doesn’t mean you have to spend the next year pissed off because of _one_ bad interaction.”

Harry huffs again, breathing a hot stream of air out as he glances to his right out his window, where the light is slowly giving way to what looks like a really beautiful sunset. Harry doesn’t reply. He doesn’t know _how_ to reply, because he knows Liam is right - objectively, speaking - but he also doesn’t like being told what to do. _If_ he decides to talk to Louis again, apologize or whatever, then _he_ will decide when that happens.

He’s just about to say as much when Liam cuts him off. “So. Pizza? Half pepperoni and half peppers?”

When Harry looks back to Liam, the fond smile is back on Liam’s face. And Harry knows he doesn’t have to explain anything at all.

\----

It’s been five days. Harry has managed to survive the first three days of his internship and five days of living with Louis Tomlinson. Granted, he hasn’t seen him much at all. He’s heard Niall and Louis laugh a bit while they unpack, but mostly Louis hasn’t left his room. There’s been some banging and cursing, even some music at odd times, but other than that, Harry can’t help but wonder what the fuck Louis has been doing in that room for five days. Especially considering it took three of those five days for him to remove his bag of shoes from by the door. Harry had bitten his lip raw to try to stop himself from making a comment about it.

Since Harry has managed to miss running into Louis completely, he also hasn’t had any opportunity to, erm, _apologize_ for his...rant.

Niall still hasn’t directly asked him about it which is good, but Liam has given him exactly three pointed looks towards Louis’ door.

Harry’s surprised when Niall drops a bag of groceries on the table in front of Harry while he’s eating a late breakfast (What? He was up half the night trying to work on a project given to him on his _third_ day.).

“What’s that for?” Harry asks, mouth full of pancakes.

Niall looks around the kitchen. “You fucking made pancakes when I was gone?”

Harry nods slowly, still chewing. Guess he should have made extras then.

“Fuck,” Niall curses. “You’re making fajitas tonight then. My choice since you fucking forgot to make me pancakes.”

Harry stares at him a beat longer.

“Harry,” Niall throws a hand on his hip, “we eat dinner together every Sunday. You cook. We all eat. It happens every week.” Niall is talking at him slowly as if he doesn’t understand.

Harry understands just fine. He just didn’t know that they were still continuing their traditions with a new flatmate. A new flatmate that Harry doesn’t really want to cook for and have to sit through an entire meal without cellphones with.

But Niall is staring at Harry with that look, and he already bought the groceries and just because Louis moved in doesn’t mean their traditions have to change.

Harry sighs. “Fajitas it is then, Nialler.”

\----

Louis awakes to something that smells fucking delicious. He panics for a moment, paper from the book he was reading stuck to his face. Fuck, he fell asleep reading it again.

His graduate program requires him to read a book by the first day of class and he can’t fucking help how boring it is. These books aren’t going to teach him how to be a better teacher. Being in a classroom will teach him how to be a great teacher.

He’s peeling the book from his face when Niall walks in the room.

“You alright?” Niall furrows his brow at him.

“Yeah, must have fallen asleep reading this book,” Louis yanks it from his face and slams it shut on the table. He’ll fucking read a synopsis online and bullshit through the discussion. (Bless the nerds who have been running Grade Saver since Louis was in college.)

With the door open the smell is more prominent. Smells like Mexican, he thinks. A bit spicy.

Niall laughs at his despair. “Well, dinner’s almost ready. Bit of a tradition we have here. We all go in on groceries, Harry cooks dinner, and we all eat together with no phones every Sunday. He made fajitas tonight.”

Louis’ eye twitches.

“You literally have to attend,” Niall deadpans.

Louis mulls it over, while Niall stares expectantly at him. He doesn’t want to awkwardly sit at a table across from Harry when they have not spoken or even seen each other since their _fantastic_ first encounter. Louis also doesn’t want to awkwardly impose on their tradition when he’s the new guy either, but Niall is still fucking staring at him.

“Okay, okay,” Louis concedes. “Stop staring at me.”

Niall’s smile is blinding as he turns and shuts the door loudly behind him. Louis groans and drops his head back onto the desk where he had been sleeping five minutes before. This is going to be fucking awkward.

Louis checks his email and Twitter while he waits. He briefly wonders if he should put on a clean shirt, or maybe a different pair of joggers, but all he ends up doing is running his hands through his hair once before Liam is knocking on his door telling him dinner is ready.

Louis sighs and gets up from his chair.

Time to face the music.

\----

Louis has only been sitting at the table for three minutes but he’s pretty sure Harry is avoiding looking at him at all costs.

Niall has definitely noticed, and Liam is pretending that he doesn’t notice at all.

Is this kid fucking for real?

Louis meets Niall’s gaze across the table and quirks his lip, ever so slightly.

Niall’s eyes widen. He shakes his head so minutely that even Liam doesn’t see it. Just a bare twitch of his jaw. But Louis knows what he means. He smiles wider.

Niall doesn’t want Louis to play. Too bad. Louis wants to play.

The plate of lettuce is right next to Harry. “Can you pass me the lettuce, please?” Louis asks loudly.

Harry’s fingers twitch, like he’s second guessing it, but he picks up the plate and hands it to Louis wordlessly, gaze to the table. Louis adds some lettuce to his fajita, trying not to look too pleased.

Niall coughs, throwing a dirty look to Louis. “So how was your date last night, Payno?”

“A date?” Louis almost squeals. His presence will be glaringly obvious to Harry, even if he’s dead-set on ignoring him. Louis knows how to be loud. “Have you got yourself a lover there, Liam?”

A noise that sounds suspiciously like a cough comes from Harry’s direction, but Liam blushes. “Yeah, it’s new still. A guy in my program named Trevor.”

“Very interesting,” Louis nods exaggeratedly, before looking towards the salt and pepper right next to Harry as well. Poor sod. “Could I have the salt, please?”

Harry passes him the salt, gaze set on Liam. Louis doesn’t even use the salt, just places it down next to his own plate.

Niall is about to burn daggers into Louis’ skull, but Louis smiles innocently.

“Niall, have you got yourself a lady yet? Last party I was at with you, you fucked off with some redhead.”

Harry snorts, but he doesn’t dare intervene. Perfect. Liam even seems to notice because he closes his eyes and takes a calming breath.

Louis feels sort of bad for Liam getting caught in the crossfire, but he can’t help himself. If Harry wants to pretend Louis isn’t a roommate, Louis is going to make it obvious he’s here.

Niall grits his teeth, “I do remember a redhead, I think.”

Harry stares at his plate opening his mouth like he’s about to say something. Instead, he picks up his fajita, stuffing it in his mouth as if to stop the words from coming out.

“Could I have the water, please?” Louis asks sweetly.

Harry continues chewing, eyes on the plate.

Louis waits.

Louis is also pretty sure Liam is hyperventilating.

Niall makes a move like he’s going to grab the water, but Louis shoots him a look. Niall stops.

Harry puts down his fajita, grabs the water pitcher, and holds it in the air for Louis to take.

“Never mind, didn’t realize I had a full glass.”

Harry’s eyes snap up to Louis’.

“Are you fucking with me right now?” Harry’s eyes are unbelievably green, and narrowed at Louis. Louis’ smirk almost drops at the sight. Harry’s hair is up in a bun, making his entire face so clear. The annoyed set of his lips. The heavy line of his eyebrows. The firm set of his jawline, tense and stiff as he glares. He’s quite attractive when he’s all annoyed at Louis.

Louis looks at him with his best faux innocence. “Oh, am I at this table now? Have I finally managed to appear in your line of vision?”

Harry smiles, and Louis panics for a second because that smile is absolutely devilish. “If you wanted my attention, you should have just asked.”

Shit.

“That's not-” Louis sputters as Niall laughs loudly. Even Liam is stifling his own laugh.

Harry looks pleased.

Louis huffs, trying not to let his annoyance show. “Just concerned you were afraid of the big bad drug addict living with you. I mean, I did already steal from that box under your bed. So I guess it's rightfully so,” Louis shrugs.

Harry crosses his arms. “There's nothing under my bed.”

“Now there isn't. Sold your sex toys on eBay,” Louis counters. He brings his nails up to his face as if to admire his work.

Niall cracks up, dropping his fork completely. “That's where you keep ‘em now, H? Under the bed?” Harry looks positively murderous. “What a clever hiding spot after your mum found them in your drawers!”

Louis chokes on the water he was drinking.

Harry’s jaw is set, his face completely red in embarrassment. Louis doesn’t think about how the flush colors his cheeks so prettily. _English rose_ , he thinks absently, before his brain catches up.

Even Liam is laughing and meanwhile Louis can't breathe.

He had been guessing, just hoping on a limb that Harry would have something embarrassing hidden. The sex toys was going out on a limb. But apparently… Louis stops that thought right there.

Harry doesn't say a word the rest of the meal.

\----

The rule is that Harry cooks and the other boys clean. After he finishes his fajita, which tastes pretty much like sawdust in his mouth, Harry pushes his plate away from him and polishes off his glass of water pretending it's alcohol. Or arsenic. He heaves his chair back from the table and stands.

“I trust you boys can handle the dishwasher, right?” he asks to no one in particular, eyes avoiding Louis’ _blue blue blue_ ones that he can feel burning into his cheeks. Fitting, since his cheeks feel like they’ve been on fire for the last twenty minutes.

“Sure thing, Haz,” Niall answers for the table, scooping the remaining fajita mixture onto his fourth tortilla.

Liam nods his agreement. Louis doesn’t do anything at all.

With that, Harry turns on his heel and heads back to his bedroom. He shuts the door quietly, sure not to make too dramatic of a noise lest _Louis Tomlinson_ feel compelled to make another comment about how dramatic he is.

Honestly. Who does Louis fucking Tomlinson think he is?

He’d been ready to apologize. Really. He just wanted to get through the meal in one piece, already feeling like an absolute prat for the way he’d behaved when Louis first moved in. He’d been ready to shuffle his feet awkwardly and try to make amends, so at least they could live in peace together for the next year. Especially if Niall insists they keep up their flat dinners every Sunday.

Harry thinks back to Louis’ voice grating on his nerves during dinner. “ _Could I have the salt, please_ ?” Harry mocks out loud, voice going up an octave in a poor imitation of Louis’ voice. “ _Could I have the water, please? Never mind_. Fuck. Him.”

Harry grabs his guitar from where it’s resting against the side of his bed. He grabs the case from where it’s laying open on the floor in front of his closet and sets about putting his prized instrument into its bedding. He needs it for his lecture tomorrow.

Tomorrow. The first day of classes for his final year of uni. He can’t believe it’s here already, but he’s excited. He’s taking composition this year, and he can’t wait to really get to work on his writing. He’s never fancied himself much of a songwriter, but there’s something about focusing on a single song that gives him some relief. Combining words and notes together, tweaking until it sounds _just_ right… It’s a part of music he never thought he’d get until he started. Now, it's pretty much all he can think about.

He's ready to get this year really started. Juggling his internship and a full course load will be a real test of his fortitude. The one upside? He'll be too busy to worry about Louis, his bad attitude, or that _smirk_ he seems to have on perpetually around Harry. Nope. Harry isn't going to let Louis get him down. He's got a big day to prepare for.

\----

The following morning, Harry wakes up to singing.

His first lecture is at ten but a quick glance at his phone reveals that it’s barely nine, and his alarm hasn’t even gone off yet. Harry squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to sneak a few more minutes of sleep, but the singing persists. It sounds like it’s coming from the bathroom. He can’t quite hear the song, but there’s only one person it could be. Liam is already gone; Harry remembers him complaining about having an eight thirty lab. Niall is also 99% guaranteed to still be asleep. So that leaves one other person.

Harry heaves himself out of his bed and rubs his eyes. He mourns the loss of the twenty extra minutes of sleep he could have gotten if he hadn’t been woken up by Louis singing whatever-the-fuck at nine in the morning. He has time for a bowl of cereal and some tea, at least. He pulls his lavender jumper from the back of his computer chair and shrugs it on, deeming himself appropriate for cereal in the jumper and his black boxer briefs.

As Harry steps into the hallway, the singing becomes a bit clearer. The bathroom door is a bit ajar, Louis’ high voice echoing off the tile.

“Oh, these times are hard. Yeah they’re making us crazy, don’t give up on me, baby.”

Harry takes a step back and shakes his head. He’s going to have that song stuck in his head all day now. (If he listens to it on Spotify as he walks to class later, no one but him has to know.)

As he’s sitting at the table with a bowl of Lucky Charms and a mug of tea, Harry hears the shower cut off. A few moments later he hears the door to the bathroom creak open the rest of the way, one of the hinges always making an awful screech when it gets damp from the steam in the bathroom. Harry has just taken a bite of a perfect cereal-to-marshmallow ratio when he happens to see Louis emerge from the bathroom in his peripheral.

A bright blue towel is wrapped low on his hips, the curve of his arse slightly visible above the line of fabric. Drops of water still cling to his skin, a few sliding down his back in smooth trails as they disappear from view. A bit of his tattoos are visible from this angle as he walks towards his bedroom. He drags a hand through the wet strands of his hair, shaking it out and sending more drops of water flying through the air and over his shoulders. He pauses just outside of his bedroom door and starts to fiddle with the towel where it’s tucked into itself on his waist.

Louis tugs the towel loose as he steps into his room, giving Harry an unobstructed view of his backside before he shuts the door behind him.

Harry drops his spoon into his bowl, milk and one unfortunate marshmallow splattering to the table. He tries to calm his pounding heart, the rush of blood in his veins heavy as he feels his chest exhale roughly. _Fuck_.

Harry can’t seem to take his eyes from Louis’ closed door. The thing is… He _knew_ , objectively, that Louis is good-looking. He vaguely remembers hearing Louis mention something about playing football at dinner last night, so he’s obviously at least a bit athletic. Harry hasn’t forgotten his arms in that tank top the day they first met, the muscles flexing under his tanned skin as he leaned against the wall and fixed Harry with that unimpressed look that would probably kill a lesser man. Harry _knows_ all of that.

But nothing, absolutely _nothing_ , could have prepared him for seeing Louis’ bare arse on full display as Harry sat at the kitchen table. That's just not something you can anticipate to experience over an innocent bowl of Lucky Charms.

Louis’ arm muscles pale in comparison to the muscles of Louis’ back. The image of Louis’ thick thighs is burned into his brain, along with the long, lean muscles of his calves. And his bum, full and firm and... No.

The whole thing happened in less than three seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. Feels like it’s _still happening_ , like by continuing to stare at Louis’ shut door he can somehow preserve the picture that was Louis Tomlinson naked in front of him only twelve feet away.

Harry’s heart is still pounding away when he finally tears his eyes away from the door. He looks down at the sad remains of his breakfast, the final dregs of his tea now lukewarm in his favorite purple mug. He needs to get up. He needs to get up and get dressed, grab his guitar, and get the fuck out of the flat before Louis comes back out.

Harry insists on taking his time, though, determined not to be run out of his own fucking flat because he doesn’t want to confront Louis. It seems that the universe is on his side at least this once, though, because Harry manages to clean his bowl and mug and make it back to his room without running into Louis at all. He changes into a pair of his black skinny jeans and a hunter green jumper, foregoing a jacket but grabbing his umbrella just in case (the sky looks a bit suspect this morning). He grabs his bag and his guitar before exiting his room.

Where he promptly bumps into Louis exiting his own room at the same time.

He gets Louis in the stomach with his case on accident. Louis recoils, rubbing a hand over his stomach and shooting Harry a glare.

“Trying to kill me with music, Curls?” he asks, cold eyes running over him and landing on the offending object that jabbed him. “If you sing you’ll probably succeed faster.”

Harry takes a split second to take Louis in: his black jeans ( _jeggings_ , more like), black and white Adidas t-shirt, his bare feet. His hair is still damp from his shower but Louis has styled it so most of his fringe is over the right side of his face, a bit of it curling from air drying.

The next second, Harry is firing back, “If I wanted to kill you I could have just poisoned your fajitas.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Clever boy.”

Harry feels his skin start to prickle with irritation. The way Louis talks to him, so _condescending_ ... Like he’s _smarter_ than Harry… Fuck that.

“I don’t have time for this,” Harry says. “Some of us have schoolwork to do. And _jobs_ to get to. So if you’ll excuse me.”

Harry doesn’t wait for a reply before he pushes past Louis, hoisting his bag further up his shoulder and rushing towards the door. No, not rushing. That would imply Louis is chasing him out. He _walks_ to the door _hastily_.

He’s not sure, but he thinks he hears Louis mutter “ _Fucking wanker_ ” before the door to the flat clicks shut behind him.

\----

Louis can’t help himself from throwing rude comments at Harry. He just, the way he huffs and puffs and his eyes focus so intently on Louis. It just… It’s a lot.

It’s good. It’s amusing. And Harry totally deserves a little bit of shit from Louis.

Especially considering Harry implied that Louis was a drug dealer/addict and then implied Louis didn’t even have a job.

Well, technically he doesn’t with student teaching, but Harry made it sound like Louis was doing absolutely nothing. His all day seminars before teaching began didn’t start until 10 because they ran until 6. He was set to start teaching on Thursday, and he was beyond excited to get into the classroom.

Niall definitely knew and he had mentioned his program to Liam on move in day, but he’s assuming Harry doesn’t even have a clue. _Probably doesn’t have the time of day for anyone else but himself_ , Louis thinks. But then the little voice inside his head says that’s probably unfair, especially considering Louis has no idea what Harry does. Besides the fact that it obviously includes a guitar.

Louis makes it through his three days of seminars without crying, so that’s saying something. They’re not hard, per se, they’re just tiring. It’s hour after hour, listening to lecturers and educators and it’s exhausting. He’s chomping at the bit to meet his second years the next day, and even packs himself a lunch that night, after his mum insisted that he needed to pack a lunch.

He goes to bed early, accidentally avoiding every single flatmate in excitement for his first day. He’s barely had a chance to talk to Niall, let alone get to know Liam. They’ve talked a few times since Louis has moved in, but it was always a tad awkward. He didn’t really know how to approach Liam at all, especially when he made a joke about killing Harry in his sleep and Liam had just kind of...shuffled away nervously. If Niall lives with two kids with sticks up their arses, Louis would be a little more than surprised, considering Niall was the first one to break out the booze at a party. Louis has a more faith in Liam than he does in Harry, though.

When he wakes up in the morning, he’s up a lot earlier than he usually is. He knows about Niall’s classes later in the morning, and knows he has to be the only one up besides Liam.

“You’re up early,” Liam comments as he leaves the bathroom, making room for Louis to squeeze by him. But he’s stopped and Louis takes that opportunity.

“First day at the school today,” Louis nods, a smile on his face. “I’ll be up around this time every morning from now on, if that’s alright? I’m not messing up your morning, am I?”

Liam looks surprised at Louis’ concern. “No mate. I just got back from my run. I have plenty of time.”

Louis groans automatically, not being able to control his reaction.“You’re one of those nutters that goes running in the morning? It’s seven, mate. Do you wake up at the arse crack of dawn?”

Liam laughs, albeit a little bit nervously, running his hand through short hair. “Maybe. You want to join in?”

Louis stares at him for a moment, unsure if Liam is truly asking or if he’s just messing about. Liam quirks his lip just the tiniest of bit and Louis runs into the bathroom, pretending to shut the door quickly. “You’ll never catch me alive.”

Liam leans in right before Louis shuts the door, seemingly excited that he’s about to make a joke. “Time for my six eggs,” he deadpans.

Louis’ jaw drops, and he laughs so loud Niall bangs something against the wall.

Louis and Liam freeze at the sound. But when their eyes meet they lean in and snicker like little kids with a secret.

Liam leaves with a smile on his face, eyes crinkling, so Louis can get in the shower. It’s the second best thing that happens during Louis’ day. The first thing is when the kids in his class write him a welcome note, and greet him with a chorus of “Hi, Mr. Tomlinson.”

\----

Louis is so exhausted Friday night that he falls asleep early, causing the inevitable Saturday morning: he’s up at nine am. Wide. Awake.

And hungry. Why is he awake this early on a Saturday?

Louis drops his head onto the pillow multiple times, begging and pleading to the world to let him fall back asleep.

Nothing works.

He’s become a nutter like Liam. Up at the arse crack of dawn.

There isn’t much movement in the flat, so Louis throws his covers off of himself and makes his way to the kitchen. He doesn’t even bother throwing on a shirt, just joggers that are hanging low on his hips. His mum would make some comment about how he should have on trousers that aren’t practically falling off his body, but Louis is an adult, thank you very much, and if he wants to wear joggers that are comfortable and hug his arse in just the right way, then Louis is allowed. Besides, it’s just breakfast. He doesn’t need a shirt for breakfast.

He regrets this decision as soon as he exits his room.

Because his bare chest runs smack into Harry’s bare arm that’s...wet?

They both freeze.

Louis’ eyes trail from Harry’s thick, _Jesus Christ_ , arm, across his very fit and very in shape torso, littered with tattoos that are practically shining with how sweaty he is.

His eyes travel down to where yoga pants ( _yoga pants_ ) are snugly fit across Harry’s hips, and thin black material stretched tightly across thick, wow _super thick_ , thighs.

Louis registers the fact that he’s shirtless as well, and now has Harry’s sweat on him.

Louis practically yelps and jumps away.

“This isn’t a bloody locker room,” he snaps as he runs a hand over his skin where Harry’s arm brushed it, rubbing off any sweat (there isn’t much) from the collision. He’s afraid he’ll get a contact high if he keeps it on his skin.

“Yeah, well,” Harry tries to cover his skin with his hands, eyes shifty. “You’re also not wearing a shirt, mate. So I guess this must be the men’s locker room.”

Louis narrows his eyes at Harry. “What that supposed to be a fucking joke?”

Harry narrows his eyes right back. “It was a good joke.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Jokes require laughter, Curls.” Louis glances down at Harry’s thighs again, Christ. “Your pants must be so tight they’re restricting airflow to your brain.”

Harry wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead. “Pretty sure yoga is supposed to increase airflow, blood flow, and all that,” he responds dryly, finally jumpstarting himself and walking away from Louis towards his own bedroom.

Louis can’t help but stare at his broad back, still sheen with drying sweat, and his perky bum in the tight yoga pants.

Louis swallows. _Christ._ Even the back of his neck looks to die for, all milky white skin tinged pink from working out.

Louis watches him up until the very last moment he’s out of view, and then he starts breathing again.

Yoga. Harry Styles does yoga. That’s somehow both incredibly surprising and yet not at all. Louis didn’t take Harry - anal-retentive, straight-laced Harry - to be all that into the mind-body-spirit thing. That would require him to remove the stick permanently shoved up his arse. Then again, Harry does wear floral patterned shirts and Louis has seen more than one green smoothie-stained cup in the dishwasher that he knows aren’t Liam’s. So he guesses it balances itself out. Hey, anything to get the kid to stop being such a damn wet blanket is a good thing.

Louis heads to the kitchen to fix himself a bowl of cereal and ignores the door to Harry’s room reopening, followed by the click of the bathroom door shut. He’s pouring milk into his tea when the shower head switches on, water echoing off the tile walls and drowning out the dying whistle of the kettle.

Louis doesn’t think about Harry’s tattoos as he sits at the table with his cereal and tea and the paper (why do they have a paper?). He doesn’t think about Harry’s wet skin, from the sweat or now the shower. He doesn’t.

He ends up scrawling H-A-R-R-Y in the crossword. 42 across: To cause irritation.

\----

On Wednesday afternoon, Harry enters the flat much like he did on his first day of his internship. He’s balancing his leftovers from lunch, his phone, a couple of books, and his bag as he tries not to drop his keys on the floor. He’s panting a bit since he had to take the stairs, the lift conveniently not working today. They only live on the second floor but the steps are steep and Harry is holding a lot.

The flat is quiet, so he figures the other boys aren’t home yet. Niall mentioned something about ordering Chinese for dinner. It’s almost five thirty, and Niall will definitely be home for dinner but Harry also thinks he remembers something about Liam having dinner with Trevor tonight. He has no clue about Louis.

Harry drops his books and bag on the counter and heads to the refrigerator to store his leftover lunch. He does actually drop his keys in the process, the sound of the metal on the floor making a _clang_ that pierces the silence of the flat. Harry rolls his eyes at his own clumsiness and leans down to get them. He peers into the fridge to see what groceries they have left, making a mental note to start a list for their weekly shopping trip to the store. He shuts the fridge and turns around to head to his room.

He jumps about a foot in the air when he sees Louis standing behind him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathes out, clutching a hand to his chest. “What are you doing?”

“I was napping,” Louis says, “in the living room.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the living room. “Heard a clanging noise and it woke me up, so I wanted to make sure we weren’t getting robbed or something. Should’ve figured it was you making all that racket.”

Harry sucks in a breath, counting to five in his head. Easy, Styles. For the first time, he takes in Louis’ appearance. He does look sleep-rumpled, his hair sticking up in odd places and his t-shirt askew, the collar exposing his collarbone and one corner of his tattoo. He’s barefoot and wearing a pair of tracksuit bottoms that are a bit too long on him. He looks...soft. And. _Oh_.

Glasses.

Louis wears glasses.

The black square frames settled on his face do nothing to hide the blue of his eyes, but they bring out the dusting of freckles on his nose and the dark strands of hair falling over his face. They make him look older, somehow. More studious. More mature, which _ha_ like that is likely. Harry doubts Louis has a mature bone in his entire body.

Harry realizes Louis is still expecting a reply when he sees Louis raise his eyebrows and fix him with an expectant look.

“S’not my fault you got woken up by napping in the living room,” Harry says. “It’s a shared space. If you want quiet go sleep in your bedroom.”

“I would have, if I’d known the first thing I’d see when I woke up is you,” Louis spits back. Then he physically steps back, breaking eye contact. He doesn’t look at Harry as he mutters, “Definitely not high on my list.”

Harry doesn’t get a chance to reply before Louis spins on his heel and heads back to the living room, where he plops right back where he presumably came from. Harry can see from his position a stack of small books on the coffee table as well as a laptop, screen dark from disuse. Harry gives himself another five seconds to breathe before he grabs his things from the counter and marches off to his bedroom. Niall can come find him when he’s ready.

\----

The Sundays after the first flat dinner were pretty anticlimactic. The second two involved Harry talking at everyone but Louis, just like Louis talked at everyone but Harry. It was a good time for Niall and Liam, Louis is pretty sure. They were amused, though they probably wanted to kill them, too. They also tried to forcibly put them in situations with each other on more than one occasion.

It failed miserably.

When Sunday comes rolling around again, Louis is a little curious what Harry is cooking. They had all gone to the shops together to pick out food, and even though Niall requested what the meal would be almost every week, Louis didn’t dare make a request for the choice. He’s honestly craving spaghetti for some odd reason, but he knows he would be the last one Harry would ask for requests or input.

He resorts to Niall.

He knocks hesitantly on Niall’s door before hearing Niall grunt. He then proceeds to run and flop on Niall’s bed dramatically.

Niall barely even looks up from where he is hunched over his desk.

“What’s for dinner?” Louis asks, face buried in Niall’s pillows.

“Are you getting fucking slobber on my pillow?” Niall questions him. “Go ask Harry.”

Louis rolls over. “That’s a funny joke, Nialler. I remember I chose to move in here for your wits.”

“Come on, Lou,” Niall whines. Louis is staring at the ceiling but he can hear the swivel of Niall’s computer chair turn towards him. “Don’t be a baby. I’ve got to finish this paper. Go ask. He won’t bite.”

There’s complete silence, mostly due to Louis’ refusal to move, and he juts his chin out in defiance.

Until Louis’ stomach growls and he closes his eyes, trying to will the noise away.

“Liam isn’t home yet, and I’m not moving until this paper is finished,” Niall states finally. “We’re both hungry. Just go tell him I said he should start dinner. Let him choose the dish, too. It’ll make him more pleasant.”

Louis snorts. One of those things is not like the other, he practically sings in his head.

“I wanted spaghetti,” Louis grumbles, rolling over to finally look at Niall.

Niall barks out a laugh. “Fat chance, mate. Just go knock on his door and tell ‘im. Please.”

Niall’s got those big blue puppy eyes, and Louis heaves a heavy, dramatic sigh while he gets up from his bed. He shoves Niall’s dumb face away before heading towards the door.

“Go get ‘im tiger,” Niall calls after him.

Louis flips him off without even turning around.

He walks down the hall, dangerously quiet, fearing he’s entering the danger zone.

This is completely uncharted territory (even if Liam’s door is literally just across from Harry’s, but the dramatics are fun).

Louis takes three deep breaths at the door before he even notices it’s slightly cracked.

He pushes the door more open, just barely, peeking inside.

The room is dark, save for the natural light coming in from the window. Harry’s sitting at the edge of his bed, one leg hanging off, strumming a tune that Louis can’t quite place.

Harry’s wearing a floral shirt Louis is pretty sure he has seen before, but it’s unbuttoned and blown wide open, showing off the broad expanse of Harry’s chest. The tattoos are dark this time instead of nearly glowing off his skin like they were when they were covered in sweat.

Harry’s hair is down, too. Louis hardly ever sees it like that, and his chocolate curls are just about cascading onto his shoulders. His eyes are closed, and his plump red lips are quirked just a tad in a soft smile.

He looks peaceful, and at ease.

Louis strains his ears but he’s almost positive Harry is humming along to the song, and Louis can’t help but mimic the soft smile Harry had.

The light is shining on Harry like he’s a beacon with a guitar. It’s...nice, Louis decides.

Very nice.

“You know I can feel you standing there,” Harry breaks Louis’ reverie.

Louis jumps a bit, banging his head lightly on the door. He mutters an “ _ow_ ” under his breath. “Oh.”

“Is there a reason?” Harry’s eyes open and he starts staring at him, intense and unyielding. Louis is surprised he isn’t laughing at him.

Louis stammers a bit, rubbing the place he bumped his forehead. “Niall was, uh, asking about dinner. Said you can make what you want. Asked me to ask you.”

Harry puts the guitar on his bed gently, standing up. “I’ll get started. What do you want for dinner?”

Harry stretches a little, making the shirt blow open more. Louis stares at Harry’s hips for a long moment before his eyes snap back up to Harry’s and he realizes Harry has asked him a question. Louis’ eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“What do you want for dinner?” Harry repeats, face void of any emotion. He’s standing stock still next to the bed, waiting on Louis’ answer before he moves.

“I was feeling spaghetti?” Louis tells him, eyeing him suspiciously. He’s still only halfway seen in the doorway.

Harry nods, pushing past Louis and out of his room, making his way to the kitchen.

Louis has to take a second to forget the rush of heat when Harry walked by.

They end up having steak. Harry’s such a piece of shit.

“Weren’t you saying something about spaghetti or summat, Louis?” Niall asks, mouth full of steak.

Harry piques right up at that. Wanker.

Louis narrows his eyes at Harry, while Harry just smirks right back. Louis can feel his blood start to simmer. This fucking kid.

“Plenty of chances during the week, Horan,” Louis flashes Niall a tight-lipped smile, maintaining eye contact with Harry. Harry’s not winning this.

“Steak’s good,” Liam comments, cutting up his steak, seemingly obvious to the tension around the table.

“Thanks Liam,” Harry stares directly at Louis, mirth in his eyes. “I’m pretty proud of it.”

 _Jesus._ Louis almost snorts a laugh, but he shakes his head instead, trying to shake the amusement from Harry Styles off of him.

He stabs his fork into the steak, and tries to ignore Harry’s stare, knowing the second he looks up he will laugh. Thinking Harry is amusing is not a good thing. Laughing at his jokes can’t be good. It won’t happen.

Louis takes a huge bite of steak, stuffing his face and pretending Harry isn’t across the table.

He pointedly ignores the knowing looks from Niall and Liam.

\----

October brings colder days, more rain, and, for Harry, more frequent stops to the coffee shop down the street from the flat. He's managing, but the workload is starting to take its toll. He finds himself up late into the night, guitar next to him as he writes paper after paper or logs information from various paperwork from his internship into an online database. Both are taxing in their own ways. More than once he's fallen asleep with his laptop open on his stomach, waking up to find it close to dying and creases on his cheeks from lying on top of papers. His brain is starting to fry just a bit, and they're not even at midterms yet. He's thankful his internship will be over by Christmas break, not sure he could take another semester of doing double duty like this.

He is learning a bit at his internship though, all the ins and outs of what music production really looks like. Some of it is really fucking boring, like the days he spends tailing his supervisor Brent and doing odd jobs like faxing the lunch orders out, filing papers, or doing data entry. Then there are the times he gets to sit it on meetings, mostly to take notes, like listening sessions with artists and producers. That part is pretty cool.

He's also loving his composition course. It's everything he hoped it would be. His professor, who told the class to call him Mark on the first day, is what you might call eccentric. He used to be a roadie in the eighties and has no qualms about telling the class about his longstanding love for Cyndi Lauper. On the first day, he asked everyone to pick a song they considered “lyrical genius.” Responses varied, everything from Nirvana to Ed Sheeran.

After everyone shared (Harry had picked Van Morrison), Mark blacked out the projector so the class couldn't see what he was typing into YouTube. Then, he played what he called “only _one_ song” he considered lyrical genius, DJ Got Us Fallin’ in Love, sending the class into hysterics.

“Get used to Max Martin, guys,” Mark had said. “We’re going to be studying him a lot this year.”

Harry is walking home from that very class when he passes the park a block from their flat. It's grey and cloudy out, a damp bite in the air, but the drizzle has let up at least. He can spot a group of boys playing footie in the grass, shouts and laughter dancing through the air. A familiar laugh breaks through the rest along with an excited “ _Oi oi!_ ” and Harry stops dead on the sidewalk.

Sure enough, Harry spots a familiar figure across the grass. Harry would recognize him even without the bold “Tomlinson” emblazoned on the back of his jersey, along with a 28. Louis is running backwards, a bright smile on his face and eyes crinkled at the corners.

Harry doesn't really think about his feet moving closer of their own volition, his eyes never leaving Louis’ constantly moving form. Even when two of the other boys playing break into a good-natured shoving match, Louis never stops moving. His feet bounce from side to side, he jogs around the other boys, his hands are expressive as he shouts orders to his teammates. He breaks into a joyous laugh when his team scores, patting the scoring team member on the back.

He's in his element. That much is obvious to Harry as he hovers next to a tree, leaning some of his weight against it as he watches the scrimmage. Seeing Louis out here, in the world, is jarring. He's...brighter, out here. Like inside isn't big enough to contain him but in the world he can be his full self. He can glow. He smiles and laughs and jokes, all unabashed enthusiasm. He doesn't pause before helping up one of the guys who slips on the wet grass. He uses the collar of his jersey to wipe away sweat from his forehead. He’s quick on his feet, legs fast and sure as he maneuvers up and down the pitch with ease. Harry’s brain betrays him, zeroing in on Louis’ thick thighs, the way the muscles flex and tense as he moves. His calf muscles are strong and lean, fully on display in the shorts that make up Louis’ kit. He tries not to let his gaze linger too long on Louis’ bum filling out those same shorts, but he fails miserably when Louis squats in the grass to watch a penalty kick. He gulps.

Harry doesn't know how long he spends watching the game, only that it comes as a shock when a voice cuts into his thoughts wondering if Louis’ bum is just as firm as the rest of him.

“Styles!” he hears ricochet in his head and he shakes himself to awareness just as a figure runs into his line of vision. Behind him, Harry can see the game has ended, other players milling around and packing up or chatting. “Hey, mate!”

“Hey Joe,” Harry greets back as Joe stops in front of him. “Alright?”

“Yeah, great,” Joe replies. He uses a sweatband on his wrist to wipe his hairline. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, uh,” Harry starts, unsure of how to go about evading the truth which is ‘Just stopped walking to check out my flatmate who I can't stand because he looks really hot when he sweats.’

Then, said flatmate appears next to Joe, an unreadable look on his face.

“What are you doing here?” he repeats Joe’s question flatly, eyeing up Harry's presence like he's expecting Harry to do something crazy like pull a club out.

“Do you lads know each other?” Joe steamrolls right over Louis’ question, bless him.

When it becomes clear Louis has no intention of answering, still looking at Harry with a suspicious stare, Harry says, “Louis moved in with me, Niall, and Liam this year.”

“Oh, you're the fourth flatmate?” Joe surmises. He elbows Louis in the side. Louis doesn't react at all. “You should've said, Lou!”

 _Lou_. The nickname rolls of Joe’s tongue with ease, and it makes Harry's skin prickle uncomfortably, though he can't say why. Joe and Louis are obviously friends, so it makes sense.

“Didn't know I had to inform everyone of my living situation,” Louis deadpans.

To anyone else it would sound incredibly pissy, already raising Harry’s hackles and his defenses shooting up, ready to combat whatever Louis aims his way next. Joe must be used to Louis, though, because he just rolls his eyes.

“We played on the same team for two years and you couldn't even be bothered to tell me you were coming back to Leeds, you prick.” He elbows Louis again. He winks at Harry as he says, “That's friendship for you.”

Harry nearly gets whiplash from how quickly all the fight drains out of Louis, tension and irritation giving way to easy teasing as he elbows Joe back. “Don't be jealous, sweetheart. You know I'll always love you best.”

Alarms go off in Harry's head. _Sweetheart_? He feels his eyebrows shoot into his hairline, eyes darting back and forth between Louis and Joe grinning at each other with mirth.

Harry coughs, voice blurting out, “Oh, are you two… You know?” before he can filter his thoughts. His brain is screaming _WHY DO YOU CARE_ and he wants to take the question back, but Joe just laughs.

“Me and Tommo?” he asks, draping an arm around Louis’ shoulder. Easy. Comfortable. Like they do this all the time. They probably do. “Definitely not. We played on the football team when Tommo was doing his undergrad. Now we just play rec together. Louis dated my brother Tom.”

“Briefly,” Louis cuts in with a smirk and elbow jab to Joe’s arm.

Joe rolls his eyes. “Yes. Briefly.”

Harry doesn't know what to do with this onslaught of information. He shuffles his feet, feeling his boots squish in the damp grass. “Oh,” he says. “That's, uh, nice?”

Joe laughs again and Louis’ got that unreadable look on his face. He's fully staring Harry down now, like he's trying to pick his way into his brain and read his thoughts. Harry has never been more grateful Louis isn't a mind reader because his brain is an absolute fucking _mess_ right now.

He's not jealous, he's _not_. He vaguely remembers Joe in class mentioning his brother once or twice before. He thinks he recalls them being twins, though they look absolutely nothing alike. He also just got confirmation that Louis likes guys, which he had a suspicion of before but you never really know sometimes.

So Louis plays football and likes guys. He also wears glasses and clothes that are too big for him. He's also still staring Harry down, eyes calculating and blank as he worries his lower lip between his teeth. His _wet_ lip, pink and plush and-

Abort, Styles. _Abort_.

“I, uh,” Harry stammers. “Well I've got to get back. Home. To the flat. It was nice seeing you, Joe.”

Harry is just pulling his bag back over his shoulder from where it slipped to the ground when he hears Louis say something that almost has him drop it again.

“I'll walk with you.”

\----

Louis isn't what sure what demon possessed him to say he'd walk home with Harry Styles, but he curses it as he shuffles along next to him in silence, bag thrown over his shoulder and skin cool from sweat drying in the cold air.

Louis spares a glance at Harry, noticing he must feel the same way with the fact that he’s staring resolutely at the ground. “Don’t look all clammy, Curls, we’re just walking in the same direction,” Louis says a little too loudly for their small bubble. “I promise I won’t push you into traffic.”

Harry’s head snaps up towards Louis. “I’m not clammy,” he says indignantly.

Louis doesn’t miss a beat. “Fine you’re not entirely clammy, maybe just a bit.” Harry makes a sound of protest. “But you are staring at the ground like you’re seeking revenge.”

Louis stops for a moment, making Harry trip over his feet. He pauses and looks at Louis expectantly.

Louis just quirks his brow, lowering his voice and patronizing in a way he can’t help but be when Harry is being so difficult. “Did the mean bad sidewalk kill your cat?”

Harry’s nose flares, and Louis can feel the slightest bit of glee just from the sight. He likes how Harry’s eyes get all green and so intently focused on only him. Like Louis is the only thing he can concentrate on at the moment.

It pleases Louis. He doesn’t dwell on it.

Harry chooses not to respond, haughtily turning, sidestepping Louis and adjusting his bag on his shoulder again.

The first few steps he takes are angry, his broad shoulders taut.

Louis pouts. Harry ignoring him is not a fun reaction. That’s not what he wanted.

He quickly walks to catch up with him. “Hey! Hey! I’m just,” Louis almost trips, falling into stride with Harry. “I’m not being serious.”

Harry doesn’t even bother to look at Louis, just keeps his head down. “I don’t think you’re capable of being serious.”

“That’s not fair!” Louis exclaims. “You don’t even know me.”

Harry says nothing for a moment so Louis barrels on. “You really need to fucking work on the phrase don’t judge a book by it’s cover, mate. Like honestly. Don’t be a fuckin’ prick.”

Honestly. Who the fuck is this kid judging Louis like this? And Louis is the one that fucking offered to walk home with him. Louis is the one who was trying to be a bigger person and get to know him. Yet, here he fucking is being accused of being someone he isn’t yet again. Louis is steaming so much he barely even notices Harry’s walking has slowed. He nearly jumps when he hears Harry respond.

“I’m sorry. I really am,” Harry whispers, so low Louis has to slow down and let Harry catch up to him to hear the rest. “I have been unfair to you. My-”

Louis cuts him off with an eye roll. “Please do not tell me you were about to say ‘my mum taught me better than that’.” 

Harry’s eyes widen and Louis is taken aback by the joyful smile that overtakes his face. Smiling suits him. “Heeey,” he drawls happily. “My mum is a saint and she did teach me better than that.”

Louis groans, but he can’t help the smile that comes onto his face too. “You’re a big baby who likes to disguise himself as a lion, aren’t ya? You do have the hair for it.” His eyes drift up to wander over Harry’s thick waves.

Harry gets a mysterious twinkle in his eye and he starts humming something that suspiciously sounds like Hakuna Matata.

“Are you fucking serious right now, Simba?” Louis tries to swallow the laugh that’s building up so fast that he almost chokes himself.

Harry stops walking, reaching his hand out to touch Louis on the arm as if to ask him if he’s okay, but pulls his hand back quickly, as if burned.

“I’m fine,” Louis chokes out.

Harry looks back down at the ground and starts walking again.

The next five minutes to their flat is completely silent.

When they get to the complex there is a gaggle of girls that mill in after them, talking loudly. They follow them all the way up the stairs and it’s so fucking awkward, their loud chatter deafening compared to Louis and Harry’s stoic silence.

Harry stops at the door and Louis presses up against him accidentally as the girls push past them. Louis’ nose practically presses into Harry’s spine as two girls refuse to make a single file line past him. He rolls his eyes, as his toe nicks the heel of Harry’s fucking gold shoes. And _wow_. Louis struggles to breathe a bit. They’re pressed up very close. Louis chest is plastered along Harry’s back and he can feel the warmth radiating off of him. Harry smells like something fruity, and home-like. Maybe cotton. Louis probably smells like sweat, and more sweat.

Louis looks down briefly as another rush of girls go past, wondering what it would be like to just drop his forehead right onto Harry’s broad back.

His heart races a bit, as he stares at the swell of Harry’s bum, positively perky in the dark jeans and his thighs that look sinful (honestly he should wear blue jeans everyday), and he realizes his groin is just in line with him, and he’d so easily be able to wrap his hand around-

  
A stray curl finds its way to touching Louis’ forehead, and Louis stops himself from getting lost in the feel of being pressed to the backside of Harry Styles.

He doesn’t even realize that they’ve been standing there for longer than necessary, the yapping of the girls long gone, until he stands back on his heels to pull himself away a bit, and sees Harry fumbling with the keys.

“Come on, Curls. Just a door,” Louis prompts as Harry fails to open the door twice, his breathing gone all ragged.

 _What is up with him?_ Louis thinks. He steps back further to examine what’s going on, completely leaving Harry’s personal space.

It’s like a switch goes off, because Harry’s finally able to open the door.

Louis’ eyebrows furrow as Harry flees from the entrance and down the hall into his own room, the sound of the door slamming resounding throughout the flat.

Niall pops his head up from the couch.

“What’s that about?” he asks, mouths full of crisps.

“Dunno mate,” Louis shrugs. He briefly wonders if Harry was affected the same way as he was by just being pressed up against one another. He shakes the thought away. “Bunch of girls in the hallway. Maybe he was hiding from an ex.”

Niall cackles loudly. “Doubt it. Haven’t seen Harry date a bird in a while.”

Louis nods solemnly. “Is that why he’s so grumpy? Hasn’t had a date in years?”

Niall stares at Louis for a moment, seemingly confused by Louis’ joke. “I said he hasn’t dated a bird in a while. Not that he hasn’t dated.” His tone is heavy with insinuation.

Oh. Harry likes boys. Harry likes boys _and_ girls, maybe. Harry who Louis was just pressed up against, with long curly hair, and a long, long torso, and long, long legs. Harry with tattoos and sweat and yoga pants. Harry who thinks he has a stick up his ass, quite possibly likes to put things up his own ass. Louis mind flies to the sex toys. He needs to go. He needs to fucking go.

“Oh. Well. Um,” Louis swallows, pointing toward his room. He’s sweating even more now than he was playing football. “I’m going to uh. Need a shower. Change. Yeah.”

Louis finds himself fleeing as well.

\----

Louis doesn’t actively avoid Harry after that. He doesn’t seek him out, but he manages to give him a quick “Hey” when they pass each other in the flat, and they have graduated to giving each other short, concise answers when they sit down for the flat dinner the Sunday after Louis’ football game.

Harry makes spaghetti. Louis tries not to feel too pleased at that. He’s not sure, but it feels like it might be an olive branch. He doesn’t say anything about it, but he does eat the meal with gusto and even tells Harry that his garlic bread is as good as his mum’s. It’s a significant compliment, because his mum’s garlic bread is the best he’s ever had. He thinks he sees Harry’s cheeks redden just the _tiniest_ bit, not expecting the compliment but happy about it nonetheless.

“I was thinkin’,” Niall starts, waving a piece of bread in the air to get everyone’s attention. “We’ve gotta have a movie night. We haven’t had one yet.”

“You’re right,” Liam agrees. “We could do it this weekend.”

Louis dips a piece of bread in the dregs of sauce at the bottom of his bowl. “So what’s this movie night, then? A flat tradition?”

“Kind of,” Liam answers. “We all go to the shop and buy a bunch of food and we marathon a series or something. We did Lord of the Rings back in March. I was thinking we could do Marvel.”

“Of course you were,” Harry says, smirking. “Who do you want to stare at this time, Chris Evans or Robert Downey Jr.?”

Niall and Louis burst into giggles and Liam pouts. “It’s not _just_ because of Chris Evans…”

“I knew it!” Louis exclaims. “You’ve got a thing for Captain America.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Niall cryptically. “You know how he and Trevor met?”

Louis shakes his head and hears Harry snort into his glass of lemonade.

“So Liam’s in the exercise science program, right?” Niall launches into the story, teeth wide on display as he smiles at Liam smugly. “And last semester Liam was in this really weird gym course. They had to learn all the equipment or summat. Well, Liam comes home one day at the beginning of February all flushed and flustered and Harry and me, we were like, what happened.”

“Liam was wearing a Captain America shirt that was _definitely_ not his,” Harry inserts.

“Right, so he’s got this shirt on,” Niall continues, “and he’s carrying what he had on before he left for class, a black Nike shirt. Only it’s covered in, like, chocolate.”

“So Niall and I started asking a bunch of questions and Liam just brushed us off,” Harry adds on.

Niall cackles. “It turns out, this other lad had spilled all of his chocolate protein shake on Liam by accident.”

“And Liam didn’t have extra clothes with him.”

“It was class!” Liam interjects, face red. “I didn’t know I’d need extra clothes for _class_!”

Niall barrels on like he doesn’t hear Liam at all, his own cheeks pink with how hard he’s been giggling. “So the other guy apparently was all embarrassed and offered Liam an extra shirt he had in his bag.”

“That other guy was Trevor,” Harry says.

“And they’ve been dating ever since,” Niall finishes, and he and Harry finally burst into laughter.

Louis laughs too, but he glances at Liam to make sure he’s not truly upset. He’s pleased to see he’s not; his cheeks are still red and he’s shaking his head but he’s biting his lip, like he’s trying to not smile.

“When do I get to meet your clumsy boyfriend, then, Liam?” Louis asks as Harry and Niall finally come back down, though they’re still shaking a little with giggles.

“Whenever you want,” Liam answers. “I could invite him over for the movie marathon.”

“Is that some kind of weird foreplay?” Harry teases. “You guys work yourselves up over Marvel since it’s how you met?”

Louis can’t help but turn his head to look at Harry in surprise at such a bold innuendo. He feels a smirk overtake his face when he sees how Harry is grinning at Liam like the Cheshire cat, hands folded in front of him on the table as he leans towards Liam mock-seriously.

Liam rolls his eyes. “You’re all assholes,” he mutters. “I was going to see if Trevor would bring us Twizzlers, but since you’re all dicks, I don’t think I will.”

That gives the other boys pause. “Twizzlers?” Niall says slowly. Then, he scoots his chair closer to Liam and touches his arm lightly. “Liam, you wouldn’t betray us like that.”

Liam shrugs and goes back to his spaghetti. “Well, then I’d be nicer to me if I were you guys.”

Louis is caught up on the fact that Trevor has access to Twizzlers. “How is he getting Twizzlers?” Louis asks. “They’re not easy to find.”

“Trevor is American,” Harry answers. “His mum sends him care packages all the time.”

Louis nods to Harry in acknowledgment and turns to Liam, a teasing lilt in his voice when he says, “You bagged yourself an American lad, Liam? Well done, mate!”

Liam just smacks a hand to his forehead. “I need new friends.”

“Alright, alright,” Harry says. “We won’t tease you anymore, Lima Bean. Invite Trevor over for Marvel movie night and ask him to please supply us with Twizzlers.”

Niall nods stoically. “Yes, please. And ask him if he has any more peanut butter M&Ms.”

“You only like Trevor because he brings you snacks,” Liam accuses.

“You’re damn straight,” Niall agrees, and then he cackles again. “Let’s do it Saturday night, yeah? We can go food shopping that day.”

There’s a murmur of agreement around the table. They all return to the remains of their food (Niall polishing off the last of the garlic bread) and a comfortable silence falls over the table, the first time it’s ever happened at a Sunday dinner. Louis starts to feel like maybe, finally, he’s starting to become part of the group. Like that last hurdle was Harry, and they’re starting to make their way towards some kind of...agreement. It’s still a bit awkward, sure, but maybe they can overcome that too.

\----

Harry is perusing the variety of crisp and popcorn bags on the shelves in front of him when he feels a figure come up to stand next to him. He expects it to be Niall returning with some candy but he jumps when the person speaks.

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard,” Louis mutters into his ear.

Harry huffs a breath and relaxes. He’s surprised by how easy it is to be around Louis when they aren’t scratching each other’s eyes out. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people, you know.”

“I was pretty loud,” Louis says. “I think you just didn’t hear me because you’re all focused on the crisps.”

Harry bites his lip to keep the chuckle rising in his throat at bay. “Niall likes sour cream and onion. Liam likes original,” he says apropos of nothing, waving his hand at the shelves.

“What do _you_ like, Harold?” Louis asks pointedly, voice dipping low and bumping Harry’s shoulder with his arm.

Harry freezes, unsure if actually just _felt_ that or if it was a brief hallucination.

“Salt and vinegar,” he says finally after a few seconds of Louis just looking at him.

Louis grins at him and Harry feels warm under the attention, Louis’ gaze unwavering. “A bit more adventurous than I gave you credit for, Curls.”

Harry rolls his eyes and grabs a bag of original and sour cream and onion crisps each. “Make yourself useful and grab salt and vinegar and whatever you want, Tomlinson.”

“Oh, so it’s _Tomlinson_ now?” Louis questions, lips curling up as he grabs the bags from the shelf.

“Didn’t want you getting too comfortable, that’s all,” Harry deadpans and he’s pleased to see when Louis barks a laugh.

They begin to walk down the aisle back towards the front of the shop, arms laden with bags of crisps and a random bunch of grapes that Harry didn’t notice Louis had been holding. They’ve only gone a few steps when Harry jumps about a foot in the air as a high, small voice yells, “Mr. Tomlinson!” from behind them.

Both boys spin around just in time to see a little girl bounding down the aisle after them, a woman who Harry can only assume is her mother yelling, “Jessica! Walk!”

The girl - Jessica - stops right in front of Louis and grins up at him. “Mr. Tomlinson!” she yells again. And… _Mr. Tomlinson?_ That’s new. “I saw you as we were going to get cereal!”

Louis crouches down so he’s on Jessica’s level and smiles at her. It isn’t just indulgent, either. He smiles like he’s genuinely happy to see her, eyes crinkling at the corners and teeth on display. “Hi Jessie,” he greets her. He sets the crisps down on the floor in front of him and holds up a palm. She gives him a high five, like they do it all the time. “What kind of cereal?”

“I dunno,” she replies. Her ponytail sways back and forth as he bobs back and forth. “Mummy never lets me pick out.”

“Because you always pick out sugar, love.” Jessica’s mum appears behind her.

Louis stands and holds out a hand. “Hello,” he says. “I’m Louis Tomlinson. I student teach Jessica’s class.”

 _Student teaching._ Harry wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Jessica is barely up to Louis’ hip, but she’s bouncing on her toes in front of him and still smiling brightly at him like seeing him is the best part of her whole day. Louis, like he isn’t even aware he’s doing it, holds his hand out again to Jessica and she slaps his palm again, sending her into a fit of giggles.

“Lovely to meet you,” Jessica’s mum replies, shaking his hand. Harry is amused to see she’s almost as tall as Louis in her heels. “Jessica talks about you all the time.”

“Does she?” Louis says, crouching back down to Jessica’s level and giving her a mock-stern look. “All good things, right, Jessie?”

“I told mummy about football during break yesterday!” Jessica says, a little too loudly for the bad acoustics of the shop. Her voice carries down the aisle, startling an elderly man looking at the crisps.

“Did you tell her how you scored a goal?” Louis prods, giggling when Jessica starts jumping up and down.

“Yup!” she says. Then she turns around to her mum. “Right mummy?”

“Yes you did, dear,” she says. Then, she settles a hand on Jessica’s shoulder. “Come on, love. We have to get going. Let’s let Mr. Tomlinson finishing his shopping.”

“See you Monday, Jessie,” Louis says, eyes lighting up when Jessica wraps him in a quick hug. “Have a good weekend.” Then, he looks up to her mother. “Have a nice day. Very nice to meet you.”

“You too,” she says. Then, to Jessica: “Come on, honey.”

Louis stands back up and brushes off the knees of his track pants, little bits of dust clinging to the fabric. He leans down and picks up the bags of crisps. He never let go of the grapes.

Harry must be staring because Louis gives him a confused look. “What?” He glances down at the grapes. “I wasn’t putting those on the floor. Gross.”

“No,” Harry says. “I just… I didn’t know you were studying to be a teacher.”

Louis shrugs, spinning to continue their walk back to the front of the shop. “You never asked.” Then, clearly just to be a prat, adds on, “You were too caught up on me being a potential drug addict. _Remember?_ ”

Harry groans. “I apologized for that,” he says. “Can we not bring it up?”

“You never apologized for that _specifically_ ,” Louis says, stopping at turning to Harry. He’s got a smile on, but Harry can see that he’s serious, at least a little bit. He doesn’t look angry, or even expectant. He’s just...looking.

Harry stops in front of him and takes a breath. “I’m sorry, Louis,” he says, loudly enough for only Louis to hear him. “I had no right to say what I did. It was a bad day. I had just started my internship and I was stressed. That’s not an excuse, but it’s why I freaked out. Any other day, I don’t think I’d have even batted an eye at the drug thing.” He pauses again and looks up to the ceiling, bracing himself for his next comments. “I’m sorry I took it out on you. That was a dick move. And I’m sorry for how I acted after it. You had every reason to be a dick to me, too.”

Louis looks slightly taken aback by the confession, and he chews on his bottom lip. His smile dims a little. “I owe you an apology for the way I acted, too,” he says. “I can get kind of...defensive. And it’s not the first time I’ve had people judge me for the fact that I smoke pot or have tattoos. So when you said all those things, I wanted to make you angry, too. And I might have gone a bit...overboard.”

Harry thinks back to Louis leaving his bag of shoes by the door for days. About how he kept pestering him during their first flat dinner together. In retrospect, he gets it.

“I would have done the same thing,” Harry admits. “I’m not mad about that. Not anymore.” It’s not even a lie.

Louis gives him a shy smile. “I think we should try to get to know each other better, yeah? We might not be friends, but we can at least get along.”

Harry nods. Getting along with Louis. He can do that. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Good.”

Then they begin walking back to the front of the shop. They find Liam and Niall arguing over the merits of chocolate peanut butter ice cream versus the slightly-less-fat frozen yogurt version. Liam, naturally, is telling Niall that they should get frozen yogurt.

“I’ll be damned before I let you take away my ice cream, you health nut!” Niall exclaims, snatching the carton of ice cream out of Liam’s hand before he can put it back in the freezer. “If you and Trevor wanna shotgun frozen yogurt, get your own!”

Liam gives out an exasperated sigh and starts laughing as Niall stalks off to the other end of the freezer to look at the other flavors from other brands. Louis gives Harry a quick smile, an amused glint in his eye, before he heads to where Liam is still standing in front of the frozen yogurt with their trolley.

Harry watches him go, walking a little bit slower behind him. Maybe, he thinks, this will work out after all.

\----

Movie night starts out awkward, to say the least.

They’re only five minutes in and Harry is already sitting way too close to Louis.

Louis has no idea how to interact with Harry now that they’re on forgiven terms. They get on. They have the potential to get on super well. Like honestly, _too_ well, considering how just a few days ago they’d both have sooner walked into oncoming traffic than sit so close. But Liam and Niall don’t know that. And who knows if Harry knows it too. But Louis can tell. He can feel it. He felt it before when they didn’t get along and Harry would crack a joke and Louis would try not to laugh. He didn’t want to see it then, but he sees it now for what it is, and he’s hoping no one else does.

It doesn’t help that Harry is wearing fucking joggers that sink low on his hips and a loose t-shirt. He looks comfortable. Like something you want to cuddle into and onto.

Liam had introduced Trevor not fifteen minutes before, all blushy at Louis’ mildly crude innuendos. Trevor had just laughed them off and Louis liked him instantly. He’s tall and blonde and looks at Liam like he hung the moon. A football player himself, Louis thinks they’ll get along perfectly fine. Louis had met Harry’s gaze as he poked and prodded at Liam over his super fit football player boyfriend and Harry just smirked at him over Liam’s shoulder. Louis had positively preened at the attention.

But Liam and Trevor had settled themselves onto the couch, cuddling up nice and close, with absolutely no room on either end for another body. Niall commandeered the armchair for himself, sprawled out like a oversized toddler, hand in a chip bag already.

Harry and Louis had looked to each other briefly, and there was a moment of pure understanding. Louis turned his head towards Liam and Trevor’s couch, and Harry wrinkled his nose in distaste. He then flicked his head to the side to where Niall was and Harry had rolled his eyes, but moved toward Niall’s chair, plopping himself onto the floor. He had patted the floor ever so slightly, a hint of mirth in his eyes. Louis had a flash of hesitation and Harry had smirked towards the spot where Liam and Trevor were giggling. Louis marched towards Harry, and sat on the floor next to him, back leaning against Niall’s chair.

Harry Styles was evil and Louis was right about him all along.

Now, with Harry’s arm pressed up against his, he can barely even concentrate on the movie.

He can feel his body tense as Harry gets up slowly to go get the popcorn from the microwave. Louis can barely even control himself as his eyes follow shamelessly after Harry’s bum. Louis shakes his head. Chris Evans is on the screen, he needs to fucking concentrate.

When Harry returns to their spot on the floor (after handing a bowl off to Liam and Trevor and settling down on the floor with a slightly bigger bowl), it feels like he’s even closer than before. Heat radiates off of him, and Niall reaches down to grab some popcorn straight from Harry’s lap.

“Heeey!” Harry squawks, pulling the bowl closer to himself, and wrapping his arms around it tightly.

Harry’s just so happened to be turned into Louis though, and Louis is pretty sure he’s not breathing properly.

Louis snags a piece of popcorn just to distract himself and do something with his hands. He can’t sit still, not with Harry’s heat and Harry’s hair and just fucking Harry pressed up so close to him.

Harry looks up at him, pout on his face, bottom lip protruding way too plumply. “How dare you, Louis.”

“Oh sod off,” Louis rolls his eyes, stealing another handful. He can’t hide the small smile on his face though.

“Louis!” Harry practically squeals, squirming himself away.

“Um,” Liam coughs from the background.

Louis centers himself. Was that flirting? Was he flirting? He wasn’t flirting.

“When did you two start getting along?” Niall asks accusingly.

“We’re not,” Harry and Louis reply simultaneously.

Louis has to stifle a laugh, and when he glances at Harry, he can see him doing the same.

“Oo-kay,” Liam says slowly.

Niall cackles loudly and reaches for more popcorn.

Louis can feel his cheeks go rosy and knows Harry’s are too, even with the dull blue light flickering over Harry’s face from the TV screen.

“Quick Liam, have you ever wanked to the thought of you being Captain America and Trevor being Bucky?” Louis asks loudly, drawing the attention away from them.

That shuts everyone up real fast. Well except for the quiet snickers from Niall and Harry and even Trevor, who’s giggling as he whispers into Liam’s ear. Louis can’t help but be pleased.

They make it through another fifteen or so minutes before Louis is dying to have some more popcorn. Harry keeps grabbing handfuls, sticking his tongue full out before putting the popcorn in his mouth and licking the butter and salt from his fingers. Christ, has anyone ever eaten so _obscenely_ before?

Louis can feel his cheeks reddening. He just wants popcorn.

He stares resolutely at the screen while reaching his hand into the popcorn bowl. Except apparently this is a teenage romantic comedy film and he brushes his hand right up against Harry’s at the same time.

Fucking hell.

Louis draws his hand back, stuffing as much popcorn in his face as he can, and maintaining his intense focus at the television.

Ten minutes later it happens again. So Louis does the most logical thing to stop the tingling in his hands and the swoop in his stomach every time his fingers brush Harry’s. He steals the bowl.

He can feel Harry’s indignant stare in his peripheral, but decides to not entertain it. It’s better if there’s no questions.

“Louis?” Harry slides himself closer to Louis. “Can you pass the popcorn, please?”

His tone is teasing, mocking almost. He's turned up his voice at the end and it's so _obvious_ he's making fun of him for that first flat dinner. He's such a shit.

He picks up a piece of popcorn, turns his body towards Harry, and finally gets a good look at his face. There's something else there that's _not_ teasing, though. His eyes are blown out and he's looking at Louis expectantly. When Louis doesn't do anything, Harry just smirks.

“Open up,” Louis whispers and he wants to throw himself out the window because what in the fuck did he just say? He has to physically stop himself from face palming, brain running on a loop going _Stupid stupid you’re so stupid you twat_. He couldn’t help himself though, not with Harry looking at him like that, and his lips just perfectly rounded and plump and just smirking at him. The innuendos are going to come out, of course they are.

Harry laughs, a loud honking laugh (though his face is bright red), so Louis takes the opportunity to throw popcorn into his mouth.

He misses, of course, the piece of popcorn bouncing off Harry’s cheek where his dimple usually is. But Harry gets the idea.

“Try me again,” Harry grins as he opens his mouth wide and Louis stares a beat too long before picking up another piece of popcorn and throwing it into his mouth.

Harry catches it easily. The smile he gives Louis is as bright as the television in the dark room, like he’s unbelievably proud of himself.

“Give me another,” Harry asks, and this time the innuendo is completely obvious, but Louis just smiles and throws another which Harry catches on his tongue happily. Harry grabs the bowl and puts it on the floor between them, grabbing a handful for himself to throw to Louis.

Louis opens his mouth wide, loving the way that Harry falters for a split second before throwing it right into Louis’ mouth.

“Good aim,” Louis leans into Harry. “We’re pretty good at this, it’s like we’re the dream team.”

Harry laughs loudly again.

“Oi you two!” Liam hollers.

Harry and Louis whip their heads to meet Liam’s stern gaze. “Quit your yapping.”

Harry grabs the bowl the same time Louis does. They really get on too well. Poor Liam.

It takes less than a second for the bowl of popcorn to land entirely all over Liam.

They’re pretty proud.

\----

It’s been a week since Harry and Louis officially called a truce and so far, things have been okay. Harry hasn’t seen much of Louis, to be honest, but they’re both busy. Harry’s midterms are looming in the coming weeks and he’s been spending a lot of time at the library. When he is home, Louis is mostly in his room or out of the flat altogether. It makes sense now, if he’s student teaching and also taking courses. Harry isn’t sure what he thought Louis was doing all that time, and it’s a startling realization that he didn’t really have any thoughts at all. No, wondering about Louis’ whereabouts is a recent phenomenon - one he isn’t too comfortable with.

It happens mostly by accident the Saturday following their movie night. Harry’s given himself a few hours off to binge watch some Netflix, his brain short circuiting from trying to get through Great Expectations in one go. The flat is quiet. Liam is at Trevor’s and Harry thinks he remembers Niall saying he was getting together with some friends to study for an exam. Harry hasn’t been out of his room since 11 that morning, when he’d emerged to grab some food before diving back into the book. It’s almost 6, now, and his stomach is grumbling.

He heaves himself off his bed and adjusts his rumpled clothing, old t-shirt and joggers twisted around his legs and waist from tossing and turning on his bed. His eyes are blurry from staring at small text for the last few hours and he stumbles to his door. As he opens it, he hears a voice from down the hallway.

“Lots, do I need to come back to Donny to kick his arse for you?”

Harry hears a rumble of tinny giggles. They sound female. He tiptoes down the hall and hovers at the edge, just before the living room comes fully into view. Louis is sitting on the couch, laptop on the coffee table in front of him. On the screen Harry can kind of make out a box with two figures in it.

Louis is Skyping someone, Harry realizes. Louis doesn’t think anyone else is home. He briefly considers heading back into his room but another burst of giggles interrupts his thoughts.

“He’s got like a foot on you, Lou,” says a female voice.

Another female voice goes, “Yeah, you should see him. He looks too old to be seventeen.”

Louis groans. “You’re too young to be dating, Lottie.”

The first voice responds, “Please. I don’t get up to half of what you did when you were my age, old man.”

Louis scoffs. “I’ll have you know that I was a perfect angel when I was your age.”

There’s a beat of silence before the two girls erupt into hysterics on the screen, Louis following close behind, like they all know it’s a complete lie. Harry feels his lips quirk up in a smile at Louis’ laughter. It’s a nice sound. Light and airy and unabashed, like he’s not hiding anything.

“So how’s the flat?” the second girl asks.

“The flat’s nice,” Louis replies. “Way better than student accommodations. I like my flatmates.”

“Even that one you were complaining about?” the first girl - Lottie, Harry figures - asks.

“Oh, right, the one you said was fit but had a stick up his arse!” says the second girl.

“Fizzy, language!” Louis scolds mockingly.

“Just saying,” says Fizzy. “You did say he was fit. And you did say he had a stick up his arse.”

Harry freezes, hand gripping the edge of the wall so hard his knuckles turn white. He’s going to temporarily ignore the dig because Louis said he was fit. Louis said he was _fit_ . _Louis_ said _he_ was fit. Fuck.

And look, okay, Harry knows that he has a certain appeal. He’s tall and he’s got curly hair and green eyes, and a lot of people seem to like that stuff. But coming from Louis… Loud, quick Louis with the sandy hair and _blue blue blue_ eyes and those _legs_ … It’s a heady feeling, for someone as attractive as Louis to find him attractive as well. Harry isn’t sure what to do with it.

He tries not to think too hard about how Louis thought him being fit was important enough to mention to the girls, who by now Harry is pretty sure are his sisters.

There’s a pause when Louis doesn’t answer and Harry wants to kick himself. He’s eavesdropping. He shouldn’t be listening to this. What was that saying his mum always used? _What other people say about me is none of my business_. Nothing good can come from listening to Louis talk about him. It’s a bad idea.

Harry lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as Louis goes, “Yes.” He chuckles and Harry can almost _see_ him run a hand through his fringe like he does sometimes when he’s thinking. “We’re better now. Not sure if we’ll ever be friends, but I think we’re okay.”

“So did he remove the stick up his arse?” asks the second girl.

Louis laughs. “I dunno, not sure he ever really had one. I think he was just stressed. Seems a bit high strung sometimes, so maybe he just needs to relax more.”

Harry has a moment of feeling completely offended before he remembers that one, he’s still eavesdropping and two, he tells himself he needs to relax all the time, so Louis isn’t really saying much out of the ordinary.

“But yeah, we’re good,” Louis goes on. “I think we’ll be okay.”

“Good,” Fizzy says. “How are your kids?”

“Amazing,” Louis answers. “I did a primary and secondary colors lesson with them yesterday. We finger painted.”

“Aw,” Lottie coos. “We actually did finger painting with Doris and Ernie a few weeks ago. Most of it got on the wall, but…”

“Bet mum and Dan loved that,” Louis laughs. “How are Daisy and Pheebs?”

“Daisy keeps saying she wants to cut her hair because one of her teachers keeps mixing them up and calling her Phoebe, but mum won’t let her, so she’s been in a strop for days,” Fizzy says. “Other than that they’re good.”

“Good,” Louis says. “I miss you lot.”

“We don’t miss you _at all_ ,” Lottie says, but it’s clear she’s lying. Harry doesn’t have to see her face. He just knows. Her voice gives it away; she loves her brother very much.

“So you meet any _other_ fit guys this year?” Fizzy cuts in, voice dipping low suggestively.

Louis laughs and Harry backs away. He doesn’t really want to listen to this part. He could make his presence known, head into the kitchen like nothing happened and probably startle Louis in the process, but he figures he can wait a bit longer to get food.

Yeah, those have to be his sisters. He remembers Louis saying something about having a lot of siblings during dinner one night. They talk like him, in any case. And they make Louis laugh, which is a sound Harry never expected to enjoy so much. And the way he talks to them, teasing but so affectionate. It’s a side he hasn’t seen of Louis before, not even with his student at the grocery store last week.

Harry collapses back on his bed, eyes up to the ceiling as his brain processes everything he heard in the last few minutes.

Louis thinks he’s fit. Harry’s sure he’d _never_ admit that out loud to anyone but his sisters, but he can’t believe that Louis has thought about it. He wonders what Louis likes. Is it his hair or his eyes? Maybe his dimples? Harry knows people go crazy for his dimples. His last girlfriend was particularly obsessed with them.

He shakes himself from that train of thought. He doesn’t need to be worrying about what Louis finds attractive about him. They’ve only just gotten on good terms. No need to make it more complicated by overthinking it.

Harry pulls his laptop back to rest on his stomach, settled on watching another episode of Friends and hoping that Louis will be done with Skype by the time it’s over.

\----

Louis is jarred awake by the sound of the doorbell ringing loudly in the flat.

He waits as the bell presses on, sure that there has to be other people in the flat this morning. He rolls over to his side, checking his phone. It’s 10:48 on a Saturday. Who the fuck could be ringing their bell this early? Liam had slept at Trevor’s, Louis is pretty sure. Niall had gone out to a party last night, and Louis is sure he’s either dead to the world or at some bird’s place. He hasn’t seen Harry much this past week, nothing more than passing hello’s in a rush. Louis is mildly impressed at how fast Harry’s Bambi legs seem to get him out the door when he needs to be.

The bell rings again, and Louis groans. Apparently Harry isn’t here. Maybe he was locked out, maybe Niall was locked out. Shit.

Louis throws his legs over the bed and doesn’t even bother putting on a shirt before wiping his eyes and making his way to their front door.

He opens it to find a lilac-haired girl.

“Um,” Louis quirks his head to the side curiously. “Hello?”

He brings his arm up to cover his bare chest just a little.

The girl, who can’t be much older than Louis, tilts her head to the side, studying him, before smirking. “You must be Louis.”

Louis narrows his eyes. Then he gets a good look at the playful look in her big brown eyes, the slight dimple in her cheek, her smirk that’s so very familiar yet…

“Are you,” Louis starts. “Are you related to Harry?”

She rolls her eyes. “Astute observation there, mate. I’m his older sister, Gemma.”

Louis laughs. “Yep, definitely related to Harry.” He pauses for a moment, before leaning in and whispering conspiratorially. “Has he always had a stick up his arse?”

Gemma hums. “As far as I know, he only gets especially constipated around fit boys. So.” Louis pretends he’s actually chill, when his mind is racing with the word fit over and over and over again. She lets the silence settle, until she starts swaying side to side. “Are you going to let me in or not?”

“‘Course love,” Louis moves aside, letting her in. “Do you want some tea? You sort of woke me up.”

Gemma winces. “Sorry about that. H said his yoga instructor was running late or something. Told me to meet him here before we went around the shops for the day.”

Louis grabs two cups and starts boiling the tea kettle, before sitting down at the table across from Gemma. “You didn’t want to join in on yoga?”

Gemma snorts. “Not really the yoga type. More the couch and a movie marathon type.”

Louis pretends to swoon. “A girl after my own heart.”

They make small talk while the water boils, and by the time Louis sets his now empty tea down in front of Gemma, she’s telling him about crazy ex-boyfriends and he’s telling her about his little sister’s boyfriend drama.

They’re laughing at a picture on Gemma’s phone of Harry at his first college dance when the front door opens. They both don’t notice until a bag clatters loudly on the ground.

They both snap their heads up at the sound.

Harry’s in a loose t-shirt, hair up, and he’s glistening again. His shorts and sneakers are bright green and he’s staring at them in absolute terror.

“What is going on here?” Harry asks, lips taut in a thin line.

Louis is trying not to stare at his angry brows, and the sweat that’s beading down his face.

He has no idea why he finds glistening, sweaty Harry so attractive.

“Hey H, just talking to your bestie Louis here. Showing him some of your college pictures.”

Harry’s eyes go wide. “Gemma,” he warns, in a low voice.

She scoffs, flicking some hair off her shoulder. “Go shower Harry. We’ll go to the shops when you get changed.”

She turns back to Louis, who smiles at her devilishly, while Harry stomps off. He’s halfway in love with Gemma, honestly. What he wouldn’t give to have her be a part of his sister crew. Lottie and Fizzy would love her. “Show me more pictures please,” he requests sweetly. Gemma complies with ease.

\----

When Harry had texted his sister saying he’d be late, he expected she’d be waiting outside of his flat, pissed the fuck off. He didn’t imagine her in his flat, and he definitely didn’t imagine her sitting inside his flat, drinking tea and acting chummy with Louis.

Harry had maybe stomped off (read: definitely did stomp off) to take a shower and change his clothes. He threw on anything he could find quickly, in fear of Gemma spilling all his secrets to Louis in the meantime.

They could not be friends. Gemma knew Harry way too well. Knew what type of boys he found fit. His dating history. Everything. They were a bad duo. It couldn’t happen.

Except when he sneaks back out of the room, and sees his sister’s face red with laughter and Louis looking at her fondly, with the same look Harry had seen the other night on Skype, Harry doesn’t seem to care.

His sister is allowed to have some friends, isn’t she?

“Come on, Gems,” Harry tries not to intrude.

Gemma sighs as she slides her empty mug away from herself. “Fine, H. Just ruin all my fun.”

Harry stops himself from rolling his eyes as she gets up from the table. Louis stands as well, and Harry finally registers Louis is not wearing a fucking shirt.

His tattoos are dark against his tanned skin and he looks so delicate, still tired from the morning. Gemma probably woke him up.

“You want to come, Louis?” Gemma smirks knowingly.

“No!” Harry calls out the same time as Louis says declines her offer softly.

Louis’ eyes meet Harry’s challengingly. Shit.

“I just meant. I mean,” Harry starts. “You must be busy and I haven’t seen my sister in a while.”

Gemma laughs loudly as Louis’ eyes soften.

“Told you,” Gemma shrugs her bag over her shoulder. “Constipated,” she tells Louis pointedly.

Fuck.

Harry grabs her arm, pulling her out of the kitchen and towards the door.

“I’ll talk to you later, Louis. Loved meeting you!” Gemma calls over her shoulder as Harry drags her off.

Louis’ laugh is high, and if Harry isn’t wrong, it sounds sort of nervous.

\----

On November 1st, it starts. It’s not like Louis hadn’t known like, objectively, how handsome and pretty and just overall fucking fit Harry was. Of course he had noticed how pleased he was when Harry’s eyes would narrow at him. Or how much glee those angry eyebrows had given him, a sadistic sort of pleasure at knowing he could rile Harry up so much. Sure he had _noticed_ all that, but it wasn’t until November 1st that he kind of, sort of, wanted to do something about it.

It starts like this:

Louis gets home from footie practice and is sweating like a madman. He runs into his room, stripping off his shirt and shoes and throwing his phone on his bed before heading back to the kitchen for some water. Vaguely he registers the shower running, but he’s so fucking tired from his practice (they had been running nonstop) he doesn’t even pay attention. He hears his phone ring once while he’s guzzling water, but doesn’t make a move to get it. It’s when he hears it ring the second time (fuck, it’s gotta be his mum) does he go running for it.

Except, when he’s running down the hall to get to his phone, he looks up to see Harry coming out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam behind him with a towel hanging low on his hips.

Louis realizes he’s going to trip as soon as he sees him. His socks slip and slide and he barely gets a chance to look up at the completely shocked look on Harry’s face before he slams into him, bringing them both to the ground in a pile of limbs and awkward jabs into stomachs.

The first thing Louis notices is the slick of wet skin on every inch of his chest, completely warm. The second is his cheek pressed against Harry’s wet chest, dampening his face. The third is that Harry’s hands are pressed to the small of his back, as if they had nowhere else to go during the fall. The fourth is that his entire body is tingling and his face is on fire, and they still haven’t moved. They’re both frozen in their spots.

Harry’s chest heaves and Louis dares to look up.

“Um.” All Louis sees is green green green and his throat goes dry.

“You’re um,” Harry’s face is bright red and he groans, throwing his head back in embarrassment. “Are you-”

Harry’s breathing feels rushed.

“Thanks for uh,” Louis starts. This is a goddamn shit show and they both can’t even fucking speak.

Harry is just so sturdy under Louis and he looks so fucking good with his hair fanned out, and his neck elongated. Louis wants to lick all the wet water off of him and isn’t _that_ an uncomfortable thought with their groins centimeters apart.

They hear the front door slam and Niall’s loud cackle before they can even move to get up.

They scramble to their feet as Liam rushes over and tries to help them up. “What happened?” Liam looks at them with a look of amusement.

Niall is still cackling, completely red in the face.

“I socks slipped,” Louis steps away from Harry, avoiding eye contact and wiping his face and chest. Shit. “I mean, my socks slipped.”

“He,” Harry coughs and Louis can see his feet are turned inward. “He ran into me by accident.”

Harry’s voice cracks on the last word.

It is the most embarrassing situation Louis has ever been in and he’s so thankful that he only got a quarter hard from lying on top of Harry for five seconds.

Harry makes a getaway to his room, and Louis stares at Liam and Niall for two more seconds before retreating to his room.

Niall’s raucous laughter rings throughout the entire flat before Liam slaps his arm and tells him to shut up.

But then Liam starts laughing, too.

Louis has the worst fucking flatmates.

It’s only when Louis calls his mum and finally gets a second to breathe does he realize that Harry seemed to have been just as affected as he was from being pressed up on the floor with him.

And oh. That’s. That’s _very_ interesting.

He almost hangs up on his mother by accident.

\----

The second Harry is behind his closed door, he drops his towel and glares down at his semi-hard dick, willing it to go down.

He was pressed up against Louis for only a few seconds but it might as well have been hours for how quickly the blood had rushed down, leaving his brain murky and only the thin fabric of his towel preventing Louis from feeling _exactly_ how much he was affected.

God, what if Louis had felt it anyway?

Harry shakes his head in irritation at his body. The last time he’d been so thrown was when he was 15 and he’d gotten hard during the sex scene in Titanic, and not for Kate Winslet. His dick has no business being interested in Louis when the rest of Harry isn’t interested in him.

He shuts up the part of his brain that tells him that’s a fucking _lie._

He stumbles over to his dresser to pull out some comfortable clothes to lounge in. He needs to finish a paper and he _will not_ wank over Louis, even though his dick stubbornly refuses to go down and it’s starting to be uncomfortable.

“Get it together,” he mutters to himself as he selects a t-shirt. “You barely touched him. Nothing to see.”

Except there _had_ been things to see, and to feel, and to _smell_ . Louis’ face was flushed and sweaty like he’d just been working out. Like that time Harry had spied on him playing football in the park. He was shirtless, too, all that skin pressed up to Harry’s chest and _so hot_. The dips in Louis’ spine as Harry pressed his fingers into it trying to steady them felt soft and warm. His skin had smelled like sweat and wind and wet grass. Harry ignores the pulse of pleasure he feels at remembering all that. This isn’t helping.

As Harry pulls on a pair of joggers, the elastic rubs over his still-hard cock and he groans at the friction, but the part of his brain that knows just how complicated this is screams at him _do not touch_. Harry isn’t willing to cross that line.

 _Yet_ , the irrational part of his brain supplies helpfully.

\----

A couple of days later, Harry is met with his next assault. He takes absolutely no responsibility for it.

When he gets home from his internship that fateful Tuesday afternoon, he’s knackered. He’d given up on maintaining his hair halfway through the day and had pulled it back into a bun, mostly because it had gone all frizzy and crazy from the amount of time he had run his hands through it. Brent had made him sit in on a meeting that was supposed to last an hour. It had gone on for three. Harry had missed his normal lunch hour and by the time he’d gotten out of the meeting, he’d had a headache and was in desperate need of coffee. He’d buggered off an hour earlier than he usually did, telling Brent he needed food and caffeine.

He comes into the flat carrying a bag of food, a burger and chips and a large, steaming cup of coffee. He expects the flat to be empty since he’s home earlier than usual, but that is not the case.

He’s barely stepped into the flat when he freezes, eyes fixed to the living room, where Louis is bent down in front of the TV, arse on full display as he fidgets with the Xbox.

“Fucking piece of shit,” he hears Louis mutter as he tugs angrily on a cord.

Harry suppresses a smirk and lets his eyes trail over Louis’ back down to his arse clad in grey joggers. He doesn’t have socks on. Harry tries not to think about how endearing that is considering he’s also feeling his cheeks flush at Louis’s arse moving in front of his face, back and forth and back and forth as he moves the Xbox and cords here and there. A brief glance at the TV showing only snow gives Harry a good clue at what’s causing Louis’ irritation.

He takes a moment to continue to appreciate Louis’ _ass_ ets before he quietly shuts the door behind him and places his food down on the counter. He walks towards the living room and clears his throat.

Louis glances behind him and raises his eyebrows when he sees Harry. “You’re home early,” he states.

Harry raises an eyebrow back. “Nice to see you, too.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Louis says, rolling his eyes and grinning before he turns back to the Xbox. “You’re just not usually home at this hour.”

“Left early,” Harry replies. “What’s the problem?”

“Niall and I are having a FIFA tournament but I can’t get the fucking thing to work,” Louis mumbles in dismay, pulling on the cord to the outlet like that will make much of a difference.

“Here, I can…” Harry begins. Louis turns to look at him from his place on the floor. “It’s a bit touchy. I could try, if you like?”

A beat passes and Harry can almost see the wheels turning in Louis’ head as he considers. Finally: “Sure. Thanks.”

Harry nods once and walks over, squatting down next to Louis in front of the TV where there is a mess of cords in front of him. He smirks as he starts unraveling them and glances to the plugs on the Xbox. He says, “Not much for electronics, are you?”

“I’ll have you know I’m wonderful at turning on gaming devices, Harold,” Louis scoffs. “It’s just this stupid thing-”

He cuts himself off as Harry plugs in a cord and the TV bursts to life, the intro music to FIFA blasting through the speakers. Harry turns to Louis, who is a lot closer than he realized. He can see the stubble growing on his chin and cheeks, ginger fuzz that looks soft but scruffy and makes Louis look older somehow. He can see the blue of his eyes so clearly, bright little pools that are looking at Harry with indignation.

“What was that about being wonderful at turning on gaming devices?” Harry teases, grinning when Louis scowls.

“How did you do that?” he asks. “I’ve been fighting with it for twenty minutes.”

Harry shrugs. “I told you it gets a bit touchy.” It’s not explicitly necessary for him to be on the floor anymore but he can’t bring himself to move, not when he can smell the mint that he knows is Louis’ shampoo and can see all the emotions flicker in Louis’ eyes: a mixture of irritation and...joy.

Louis huffs. “I would have figured it out eventually.”

“‘Course you would have,” Harry agrees, “just in time for Liam to get home from his lecture at nine.”

“I think I liked you better when you didn’t talk to me,” Louis replies, nudging Harry with his shoulder. “You didn’t give so much lip.”

Harry’s brain short circuits at that completely innocent phrase, zooming straight into all the places he _would_ like to give Louis lip. He coughs, fidgety all of a sudden, and stands up.

“Right, well,” he says, and he ignores the questioning look Louis is giving him at the abrupt change. “You’re welcome. Have fun.”

Louis’ eyes narrow ever so slightly and he nods. “Okay. Thanks.”

Harry tries not to be disappointed when Louis turns back to the TV and doesn’t spare him another glance. He’s the one who ended the conversation, after all, and totally awkwardly too. God, he’s such a twat.

He tries not to feel too weird about it as he settles at the kitchen table with his food, and Niall is a welcome distraction when he flies in the door five minutes later in a whirlwind of laughter as he regales Harry and Louis about the guy he saw faceplant on his skateboard. Harry laughs at all the right places, but his heart isn’t in it because as soon as Niall sits down next to Louis on the sofa to play their game, Louis glances over at Harry and gives him a quick look that seems almost...disappointed. But that can’t be right. Maybe Harry’s brain is making shit up.

He finishes eating quickly and retreats to his room, shutting the door behind him. He tries to ignore Louis’ hoots of laughter as he and Niall play, boisterous, loud laughs that sound throughout the flat, but the fact that Harry is quickly coming to terms with is that no matter what he does, Louis seems to be just about everywhere.

\----

When Louis walks into the flat after his long (see: exhausting) day of student teaching, he’s ready to put up his feet and not move for the rest of the night. He tosses his jacket haphazardly in the direction of the coat rack, not bothering to see if it makes it. He’s contemplating wrapping himself in a blanket cocoon and watching Netflix the rest of the night when Niall pops his head up from the couch.

Louis doesn’t jump. He doesn’t.

“Tommo!” Niall greets loudly, teeth on display as his mussed blonde hair rises over the back of the couch.

“Yes, Nialler?” Louis asks patiently, rubbing his eyes.

Niall’s grin is wide. “You’re home! And everyone else is home!”

Louis shifts from one foot to the other. “Okay?”

If possible Niall’s smile grows even wider and Louis gulps. He has a feeling his plans are about to be shattered. There goes his blanket cocoon.

“So,” Niall rubs his hands together excitedly. “Everyone is actually home on a Friday night. We’re going out tonight!”

Liam walks out into the living room. “What he means is there’s a Groupon for laser tag and bowling tonight, and he’s really excited.”

A half hour later, the four boys are crowded together in a taxi and headed towards the bowling alley. Honestly, they’re all too old for this.

It’s as they hop out of the car and are walking into the building, blinking neon lights of the sign overhead declaring the place to be “Rolling Thunder” only barely illuminating the pavement in front of them, that Louis first notices.

“Niall,” Louis looks curiously at Niall, whose jacket pocket is sagging just a tinge, as they walk up to the bowling centre. “Did you bring a flask?”

Louis had truly only noticed it because he was pointedly looking anywhere but Harry in a black sheer sweater.

Niall just winks. “Laser tag first, boys. And relax Liam, it’s Adult Night after 10.”

Liam looks like he’s two seconds from a coronary and Harry is already halfway into the door, ignoring Niall like this is a usual occurrence.

Louis has to stifle a laugh. Game on.

\---

They get divided into pairs.

(When the employee had come by to divide them up evenly, Niall had taken an exaggerated step closer to Liam, leaving a large amount of distance between Niall and Liam, and Harry and Louis. The guy paired them off easily. Fucking Niall.)

Louis had also bumbled around red in the face trying to help buckle up Harry when he couldn’t figure out his chest piece. Thank God for the blacklight, but at least the awkward seal was broken, because after that it was like the floodgates were opened.

“So, teammate,” Louis bumps Harry’s hip as they walk through a short tunnel into the playing area. “You’ve got a plan for us to win this? Because I do quite like to win.”

Harry turns to Louis, eyes sparkling. Even in the darkness Louis knows they’re shining bright emerald. His favorite kind. (He ignores his traitorous mind acknowledging that he even _has_ a favorite shade of Harry’s eyes.) “I know you saw the flask. Niall will not be the target. Liam will. Niall always tricks him into drinking most of it in the worst places. If they’re hiding, they’re drinking.” Harry’s voice drops low to a whisper. “The trick is to catch them with their mouths full.”

“Sounds like you’ve done this before,” Louis grins, hovering behind the starting line while they wait for the round to start.

“A couple times,” Harry says. “We went for Liam’s birthday two years ago because we knew he’d get drunk and start singing showtunes.”

Louis balks a bit at the trick and, even though it was something he already 100% knew, he says in appreciation, “You’re a little sinister, aren’t you?”

Harry rolls his eyes, albeit it’s a little fond. “Takes one to know one and all that jazz.” Harry cocks his laser gun. “Ready?”

Louis looks toward the hoards of other adults they’re with, chest pieces all lighting up at once to alert them the game is about to start. “Our goal is Liam and Niall. But we’ve got to stay in long enough to get them.” Louis meets Harry’s gaze. “I’ll cover your back if you cover mine.”

Harry smiles wide. “Got it, teammate.” He hip checks him again.

The first two rounds are absolutely insane. Louis is impressed Harry doesn’t wipe out on the carpet, his boots hardly appropriate running footwear, but he keeps with Louis step for step. Louis doesn’t think too much about how tight Harry’s jeans are as he squats next to him behind a fake brick wall, or about how Harry has pulled a hair tie from his wrist to tie his hair up in a messy bun to keep it out of his eyes. They’re both breathing heavy, Harry’s cheeks flushed from running and laughing and as they quiet down to avoid being seen by Liam and Niall stalking past them, he shoots Louis the happiest smile, cheeks dimpling. Louis feels alive in a different way than he’s felt before.

They destroy Niall and Liam the first round, while the second round Liam gets a lucky shot on Harry, to which Louis screams a battle cry and shoots both Liam and Niall down. (They still lose.)

The third round is in the bank, though. Harry and Louis watch Liam steadily become drunker, tripping over his own two feet, and Niall only gets louder the more he drinks making it easy to hear him from almost anywhere in the playing area.

Harry and Louis decide to hide out in the place they first spotted Liam and Niall drinking, waiting for them to come around again to finish out their night.

They end up spending most of it talking in whispers about anything from their siblings to their schoolwork to the most embarrassing childhood stories.

“When Gemma was 17 she was convinced she was going to be this bigwig makeup artist. So naturally she tried all her looks on me. But then one day she tried doing some really out there makeup. Like I have no idea where she got the ideas, and I looked terrible. I didn’t even get a chance to fully appreciate how bad I looked, before I ran downstairs to get the doorbell when it rang. I scared my nan so bad she almost fell down.”

“Gemma showed me that picture!”

Harry screeches and wacks Louis with the laser gun. Louis follows up with a story of his own, about being 12 and having an obsession with Tony Hawk so extreme he thought he’d take up skateboarding as a career. His mum bought him a skateboard for Christmas and his first time out on it he broke his wrist. He’d just stuck to football after that.

It’s...easy to talk to Harry. Easier than Louis ever would have thought. Harry listens intently to his story, widening his eyes when Harry tells him about his broken wrist or the time he got chicken pox from a girl in primary school. Harry is an _awful_ storyteller, barely managing to get through his tales without giggling and having to stop for a second to compose himself. He makes even funny stories sound morbid with his deep voice, but Louis thinks they’re funny anyway. He thinks _Harry_ is funny, unable to stop his eyes from crinkling when Harry bursts into giggles when he tells Louis about the time his boss almost sold a cake he’d burnt when he worked at a bakery. He also can’t help but feel a warm buzz in his blood at sitting so close to Harry, thighs touching as they talk.

In that moment, it doesn’t feel like just a few weeks ago they were ready to claw each other’s eyes out. Here, sitting on the dirty carpet of a bowling alley with a plastic laser gun in his hand and Harry drawing shapes in the air in front of them to illustrate the layout of his secondary school, Louis can barely remember anything but feeling but fondness towards the curly boy sitting next to him.

The spot turns out to be perfect for a sneak attack, though. When Liam and Niall eventually tumble toward their hiding spot, they scream in unison and shoot them at the same time; the last two shots to win the game. Liam and Niall’s chest pieces light up and buzz and Liam drops to the floor dejectedly while Niall just crosses his arms over his chest and glares. Harry and Louis are too busy jumping up and down in celebration to notice.

They surrender their guns and chest pieces to the employee from before and head back out to the main part of the bowling alley. Harry and Louis parade around calling themselves the dream team and then giggle over how corny their plastic medals are and how they should come back again for a rematch.

“Okay, okay,” Niall groans. “We get it, you’re the dream team.”

“You’re just afraid you’ll lose to us again in bowling,” Louis threatens, then leans in close to Harry whispering loudly. “How good are you at bowling?”

“I’m aces at bowling,” Harry whispers back.

Somehow Harry and Louis break the lane they’re assigned to with an unfortunate roll of a fifteen pound bowling ball. They end up getting kicked out.

\----

Harry has a specific routine when he becomes so busy he can’t see straight. He schedules everything, mostly because he has to unless he wants to go insane. He sets up his lunch the night before, he makes sure he has enough time in the morning to shower, he sets an alarm for yoga, and he sets an alarm for laundry.

His mum has taught him well. He’s super self-sufficient.

So on Sunday, when his alarm goes off for laundry at around three in the afternoon, he glances at his computer where he had been drafting an email, heaves a sigh, and grabs his laundry basket and any excess clothes and detergent. Stick to the schedule.

He makes his way downstairs towards the laundry room and as he comes closer to the door, he hears low singing.

The voice is high and light, singing a song by The Script, and Harry recognizes it immediately.

Harry whistles.

“Louis Tomlinson in a laundry room. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Louis whips his head around, dropping some socks in the process.

His face turns crimson, and Harry feels inexplicably happy at the way Louis’ eyes narrow at him and his fingers run through his hair. Harry knows the reply will be quick. It always is with Louis.

Bantering with Louis is so refreshing and so unbelievably easy. Harry went from literally wanting to pull his hair out while Louis talked over him to looking forward to the quip that was going to come from Louis (and he knew what the next step after that entailed).

“Thought hipsters didn’t wash their clothes, mate,” Louis smirks, gathering up the socks he dropped and putting them in the dryer.

“‘m not a hipster,” Harry protests. “I’m just more surprised you found this place alright.”

Louis rolls his eyes, putting his hand on his hip. He has really nice hips. And thighs. They’re so thick and Harry thinks back briefly to when they were pressed up against him in the dark spaces of the laser tag game.

He starts taking out his clothes and putting them in a washing machine.

Louis doesn’t seem to realize his brain just wandered off, though. “With six siblings, you get good at doing your own laundry so your mum doesn’t have to live permanently at the washing machine,” Louis blushes, and shoves a pair of jeans quite aggressively into the dryer.

It’s very cute.

“I guess that makes you quite the good person. First, a mummy’s boy and then a teacher. Guess you aren’t half bad,” Harry barely finishes his sentence. _Smooth_ Styles _._ Harry wants to hit himself over the head, because if that was his way of being subtle, he was about as subtle as a bright ass fire truck.

Louis licks his lips ever so slightly. “Was that a compliment, Harry Styles?”

Harry blushes to the tip of his ears. Christ. “I mean,” Harry stutters. “Yes.”

Louis hums. “I like your hair.”

Harry’s hand reaches up to his curls quickly and feels his cheeks start to burn. “Yeah?” he asks, self-conscious of the way it feels knotted in places from where it air dried overnight and _why didn’t you put it up in a bun you idiot_ but how was he supposed to know he’d run into Louis in the laundry room?

“Yup,” Louis answers, his lips popping on the “p” and he winks at Harry.

Fucking hell. What are they, in year three?

Louis smiles at him, softly. “But your laundry, mate. It fucking smells and I’m pretty sure the homeless man down the street was wearing this flannel last week.”

Louis picks up a random flannel that Harry has in his pile. Harry swats away his hand.

Finally he finally registers Louis’ comment from earlier. “Did you say you’ve got six siblings?”

Louis laughs. “Just realizing that now? I’ve got two sisters who are coming to visit soon, they’re the oldest, 17 and 15. Then a set of twin girls who are 12. Then my mum just recently got remarried and she’s got babies. Well, toddlers. They’re two, and another set of twins, but at least I got one brother out of that set.”

“Holy shit,” Harry breathes. “That’s a loud house. Makes sense why you’ve got such a loud personality,” Harry intones.

Louis grabs a pair of boxers right from Harry’s basket. “Not just my personality that’s loud.”

He bends over slowly to put Harry’s boxers in the washer. Harry’s eyes rake over his body, the loose joggers he’s wearing that hug his bum. _Everything_ Louis wears seems to actually _bend_ itself to his curves in all the right ways, whether they’re old joggers like today or the black skinny jeans Harry sees him wear to his lectures. And don’t even get Harry _started_ on the navy blazer Harry spotted Louis in the other day when he came home from student teaching, the cuffs folded up his arms to expose a few of his tattoos scattered along his (delicate and oh-so-pretty) wrists and the sky blue shirt he’d paired with it. Today, though… Today the universe is gifting him with another unobstructed view of Louis’ arse, still bent over the washing machine to toss in the remainder of Harry’s clothes, and Harry’s brain drifts to another train of thought, his brain finally catching up to what Louis just said.

Louis is loud. Harry had known that from the very first moment, but now he’s been given new knowledge.

Louis is also loud during sex. Harry can just imagine the high breathy moans that Louis probably makes.

He takes a deep breath. He’s about three quarters of the way to being hard just from a throwaway line.

“A gag would work if that’s the case,” Harry barely sputters out the poor excuse of a joke and it’s probably way too late to reply now but Louis just shoots him a quick glance.

“Hm,” Louis grabs another pair of Harry’s boxers and Christ that shouldn’t be attractive to him, they’re fucking dirty. But they’re his and they’ve touched his dick and now they’re being touched by Louis’ hand. Harry wants Louis’ hand to touch his dick. “Wouldn’t imagine I’d like a gag for meself, you know? But I’m glad you’re so willing to share with me the kind of porn you like.”

Harry’s quite sure his brain has short-circuited. His face is on fire, that’s for sure. His pulse is easily way higher than it should be and his breathing has gone ragged.

Louis seems cool as a clam but there’s an edge in his movements, something quite deeper and darker in his eyes.

They pile in the last of Harry’s dirty laundry in the washer together, Louis specifically going for below torso items only.

“No quick remark, then?” Louis asks coyishly.

Harry’s quiet for a moment. “Nope,” he regains a little semblance of his long lost chill. “Just thinking about how you must be watching the same porn then.”

He purposely grabs the same piece of clothing that Louis grabs, his hand enveloping Louis’.

“Whoops.”

He admires the way Louis falters. His cheeks redden and he lets go of the fabric.

“I like you better when you’re silent,” Louis throws back, and then he picks up a sock and waves it, letting it swing back and forth. The implication is very very clear. Harry’s breath catches.

Harry grabs it from him quickly, and throws it in the washer. His heart is hammering so loud, he’s sure Louis can hear it.

“Laundry is done, Lewis, go back upstairs. The laundry room is getting spooked because of your unfamiliarity.”

Harry doesn’t watch him bend over to grab his laundry basket and he also doesn’t miss the way Louis cackles all the way upstairs, but Harry absolutely, positively watches him as he goes.

Christ, he needs a glass of water.

\----

Louis can admit it, he’d been teasing Harry about the porn thing in the laundry room. It was just so _easy_ to tease him, his cheeks dimpling and going all rosy. Louis wanted to do it again and again, prod at his inhibitions to get him giggling and blushing. He really has no idea about the gag thing, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. By the way Harry reacted, though… Well. Louis isn’t going to let that thought take hold.

There’s something different about banter with Harry. Louis can tease pretty much anyone, quips and flirty comments flowing through him with barely any thought, but usually the satisfaction is short-lived. He loves teasing Liam over his protein shakes and Trevor (and Trevor, bless him, usually joins in). He loves teasing Niall about being Irish and having a liver made of iron. He loves teasing his mum about that time she shrunk his Beckham jersey. He loves that feeling of seeing people get flustered and start to laugh at his remarks, never being mean but always just toeing the line of being annoying.

With Harry, though, it’s different. When they first meant his jabs were meant to hurt and to irritate. He wanted to make Harry as angry as Louis felt, picking at the most obvious insecurities Louis could find. It wasn’t really all that fun, if he’s honest. Louis doesn’t want to hurt anyone but at the time, he thought Harry deserved it. But that still didn’t make it fun.

And then, somehow, the jabs stopped being hurtful and became more joking. The teasing stopped being about attacking each other and became, if Louis wants to be honest, flirting.

(Louis does not lack self-awareness to the point where he can deliberately stick his head in the sand about how what they’re doing at this point could be construed as anything but flirting.)

Sometimes it’s just a feeling that Harry is on the same page at him, like when they were sitting close together on the floor playing laser tag and sharing every dumb story they could think of, giggling into their plastic guns like little kids. Or like yesterday when they went back and forth in the laundry room. In those moments Louis feels like the universe has aligned and like this steadily building feeling of... _whatever_ is mutual.

And then he sees Harry get flustered and back off, stuttering excuses or cutting the conversation off at the knees. And he thinks maybe they aren’t on the same page at all.

He’s stewing in that thought as Harry walks in the front door. It’s just them in the flat again, Niall off doing whatever Niall does at five in the afternoon on a Monday and Liam is at a lecture. Louis had been standing at the microwave while a bag of popcorn popped when Harry steps into the flat, keys jangling in his hand and a worn expression on his face.

“Hey, mate,” Louis greets, turning back to the popcorn. Harry had undone the first four buttons of his shirt (blouse?) and his chest tattoos are exposed, which is definitely not something Louis needs to dwell on.

“Hey,” Harry replies, dropping his keys in the little smiling strawberry dish on the counter - a recent addition from Niall who claimed that they “should have one of those little dish things to put our keys in, all proper-like, you know.”

“Alright?” Louis asks, and he can kind of see Harry’s movement behind him in the distorted microwave reflection.

“Yeah,” Harry sighs.

Louis turns around just in time to see Harry rub his heavily-ringed fingers over his eyes and let out a groan.

“Doesn’t sound alright,” he prods, letting his popcorn go for the moment to walk closer to Harry.

“I’ll be okay,” Harry answers, his eyes still covered.

Louis can’t help it. He feels his nerves bristle with worry, his whole body reacting to seeing Harry upset. He _looks_ okay, at least physically, so whatever is happening must be psychological.

Louis has a degree in psychology. He can totally handle this.

“What’s going on?” he asks gently, the softness disturbed momentarily by the microwave beeping loudly to signal his popcorn is done.

Harry drops his hands from his eyes. He’s tired, Louis can tell, dark bags under his eyes starting to become visible. His hair is a bit messy, too, like he’s been running his hands through it a lot.

“Just a bit stressed, is all,” Harry eventually says. The look he gives Louis implies “a bit” is a drastic understatement.

Louis voices this thought. “Sure it’s just a bit?”

Harry heaves another sigh and leans on the counter between them, the muscles of his arms stretching as he supports his weight on them. “Midterms are next week,” he says and yes, Louis did know that. Liam has been preparing for his own practical exam for a week now. “I haven’t gotten to start making study guides yet because I got behind on this project Brent gave me at my internship. It’ll be done by tomorrow, thank God, but I’ve only got a week to start preparing for exams and I’m not going to be ready, I know it.”

Louis lets Harry get it all out, let’s all the exhaustion and frustration he’s feeling seep into his voice, his expression falling the more Harry talks. They’re not even Louis’ problems and he _feels_ it.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” he says softly, but he shuts his mouth at the look Harry gives him.

“It’s true,” he says dejectedly, a bitter laugh coming out with it. “I don’t regret this internship ‘cause it’ll look great when I start applying for jobs in a few months but _fuck_ I didn’t know it was going to take over my whole fucking _life_.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Louis asks before he can think about it, the words tumbling past his lips without his approval. But then again, even if he’d given himself a second to think about it, he knows deep down he would have asked anyway. He wants to help.

Harry shakes his head. “No, not really,” he answers. “I’m off from my internship for the rest of the week after tomorrow so I’ll be able to get to work studying after that, but I do have to get through tomorrow.” He pauses, furrowing his eyebrows a bit, and then says, “Thank you.”

Louis nods shortly, feeling his cheeks start to flush under the attention. “No problem,” he says. Then, because he’s Louis and he refuses to live a life where anyone around him feels sad for an extended period of time, he goes, “Here’s what we’re gonna do, Curly.”

Harry’s eyes, which had drifted to staring intently at one of his rings, slowly pan up to look directly into Louis’. Louis plows on though it kind of feels like some of his breath is knocked out of him by the blazing green he sees.

“You’re gonna get into something other than those painted-on jeans,” Louis says, jerking his head down to indicate he means Harry’s signature black jeans. “Then you’re gonna come share my popcorn and we’re going to watch something on the telly and maybe order a pizza and you’re not even going to think about your job until tomorrow. Okay?”

Harry shakes his head, already starting to protest. “I really should keep working, I’ll get done faster if I-”

“Uh uh,” Louis says, shaking his head in return and walking around the other side of the counter. He doesn’t think too much about what he’s going to do, already placing his hands on Harry’s shoulders and beginning to push him towards his room. All he feels is heat. “The company will continue to function whether you finish that project at ten am or by four. You, on the other hand, will not if you don’t _relax_ . So _go._ ” He punctuates his last word by a slightly-hard final push to Harry’s shoulders.

“Okay, okay,” Harry says and Louis sees the beginnings of a smile start to turn his lips up. It’s a welcome change from the last five minutes.

Louis has a mission for the rest of the night, and it’s to keep Harry distracted even if it kills one or both of them.

It goes alright at the start. Louis decides against pouring the popcorn into two separate bowls and instead dumps the whole bag into one large one. He justifies it by saying it doesn’t make sense to dirty two bowls. He really just kind of sort of wants to share with Harry. Harry eventually emerges from his room in a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a grey knit jumper that looks like it would swallow Louis alive but fits Harry perfectly, the collarbone slipping just a little to expose the space of his skin where his shoulder meets his neck. Louis doesn’t let himself look too long at that.

They perch themselves on opposite ends of the couch, the bowl of popcorn between them. Their hands brush a few times but Harry doesn’t even seem to notice, his eyes trained on the TV where they’ve settled on reruns of The Great British Bake Off. Harry seems content to just sit and watch and Louis doesn’t want to spoil it by talking, but he’s also feeling fidgety in a way he can’t really describe. Like he’s ready to jump out of his skin. Sitting on the couch next to Harry might not have been the best idea because he’s _completely_ attuned to his every move.

He feels the slightest motion whenever Harry adjusts his arm or stretches his neck, his head lolling back against the couch cushions. It’s like the air moves to make room for him when he changes his position and brings a leg up to prop under his arse. Louis himself has his feet propped up on the coffee table in front of the couch and hasn’t moved a muscle in almost an hour, tense even though he has no reason to be.

As they finish off their second episode and starting rounding into the third, Harry gets up from the couch and grabs the empty bowl from between them. “I’m gonna grab a banana, do you need anything?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Louis answers, “thanks, though.”

Harry moves around the back of the couch and heads into the kitchen. Louis hears him dump the leftover kernels from the popcorn into the bin and then set the bowl in the sink. He hears him rustling around in the kitchen, probably debating which banana to select because Louis has never seen someone more picky about their fruit choices.

He’s grinning to himself at that thought, about how picky Harry is, but it soon dies a quick death in his brain because when Harry sits back down, it’s right next to Louis.

Before, another person could have sat between them comfortably. Fuck, Niall probably could have curled up in the fetal position and still had a bit of room to spare. Now, though… Now Louis feels every bit of the warmth of Harry’s body pulsing out and heating up the air around him. He can smell the banana as Harry peels away the skin, his eyes back on the TV as though he never left. Louis can’t breathe.

His own eyes haven’t left the TV either, but if someone held a gun to his head he wouldn’t be able to tell them what was happening. He feels his heart beating loud, heavy beats in his chest, his blood rushing through his veins and pounding in his ears. He doesn’t allow himself to look but he can see out of his peripheral Harry take his first bite of banana, an exaggerated bite where he puts almost half of the whole thing in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as his lips curl around the fruit.

Seriously?

It goes on like that for another minute before Harry finishes the banana. Louis might be dead. He’s definitely hard.

Harry for his part seems to be completely unaware of the tragic state of Louis’ brain and dick, chuckling to himself at something Mary Berry just said on screen, something that Louis will never know.

“That souffle is going to collapse,” Harry says, waving his hand at the screen. “There’s not enough air in the batter.”

Louis has no idea what the fuck Harry is talking about. “Is that something you learned from your days at the bakery?” he asks dryly.

Harry turns his head and shoots Louis a brilliant smile, evidently ecstatic that Louis remembered he used to work at the bakery. “I did make a souffle once! Well, I had help. But I did most of the work.”

“What kind was it?” Louis asks.

“Banana,” Harry winks, then turns back to the TV.

And just… _What?_

Louis can’t even begin to _attempt_ to think of a reply, so he doesn’t even try. He gives himself another five minutes to calm down. Well, enough to get his dick to _go_ down. Then he stands up without ceremony and looks down at Harry, a wide smile on his face. “So. Pizza, Curly? What’s your poison?”

Harry looks up, a small smile overtaking his face. “Pineapple?” he asks hopefully.

“Anything else?” Louis asks, hands sweeping out in front of him in a grand gesture. “Come on, Harold, you can put anything on the pizza. What do you want?”

Harry’s eyebrows scrunch up adorably as he thinks and Louis waits with an expectant look on his face. Another few seconds go by before Harry says, “Pineapple and...pepperoni.”

“Done and done,” Louis says, grinning. “I’ll go order it.”

Calling the pizza place gives Louis a few blessed moments to himself to reevaluate the last ten minutes of his life. Harry’s banana comment had not been just a coincidence. He _winked_ . It was deliberate. It _had_ to be. So that means Harry _knew_ what it would do to him.

Or maybe Louis is overthinking it. He takes a breath before heading back to the living room to plop next to Harry on the couch again, promising himself he’ll try to keep a safe distance.

It’s possible it wasn’t on purpose at all.

\----

So maybe the banana was a bit overboard, but Harry can’t bring himself to care because he _saw_ how Louis reacted to it. That doesn’t stop him from feeling a tiny bit guilty the next couple of days, but more than anything he’s intrigued.

Harry’s erotic eating of a banana was one of the reasons he and Niall became fast friends. In fact, after he’d crashed on the floor of Harry and Liam’s room the fateful first night they met, Harry had offered him a banana the next morning and Niall had nearly pissed himself laughing as Harry deepthroated one. Liam threw his pillows at them.

Anyway, generally, whenever he does it - and he doesn’t really do it all that often - he does it because it makes people laugh. At least the ones with a sense of humor. But Louis hadn’t laughed, and Louis definitely has a sense of humor. Harry doesn’t know what to make of the way Louis had completely tensed up, eyes frozen to the TV screen but Harry would swear he wasn’t breathing. In fact, it would have been more _in character_ for Louis to look over at him and make some comment, some jab about Harry being inappropriate with phallic fruit. But he didn’t.

Harry knows what he _wants_ it to mean, but that’s a whole different slew of issues. Ones he isn’t ready to tackle yet. He still has things to do, and he can’t get bogged down in this.

Harry only has one lecture that afternoon, thank God, and he’s looking forward to taking a quick nap before starting a new study guide for his composition class. A quick nap and then getting to work, no distractions.

The only problem is that Louis is an excellent distraction. He’s incredibly distracting when Harry walks through the door into the flat and sees Louis, shirtless, sucking on a smoothie.

Harry pauses in the doorway for a second longer than can be considered acceptable, thrown by seeing Louis hovering in the kitchen, a long pink straw between his lips as he waves hello at Harry.

“Hey,” Harry replies, dropping his keys in the strawberry dish and kicking the door shut behind him with the heel of his boot. “Alright?”

“Yeah,” Louis answers around the straw, barely giving Harry a second glance as he wipes off the kitchen counter with a paper towel. Looks like he spilled some of his smoothie.

Harry kicks off his shoes and pushes them next to the coat rack. He’s shucking off his jacket when a loud sucking noise sounds from the kitchen. Harry counts to five in his head before turning around.

Louis still isn’t looking at him, but his cheeks are pinched together as he continues to slurp down whatever is left of his smoothie. Harry can almost see the line of his straw in his cheek. Harry wants to look away, but he can’t. Not while Louis’ lips purse to suck up the remainder of the pale pink liquid. Definitely not as Louis places his now-empty cup on the counter and turns to look at him for real, cheeks a bit flushed. Harry can now make out a hint of sweat around his hairline. Looks like Louis had football this afternoon.

“What are you doing the rest of the afternoon?” Louis asks him, licking his lips, pink tongue darting out to lick at the corners of his mouth.

Harry forces himself to look Louis in the eyes, not at him dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. “Studying,” he answers mechanically, feeling his brain starting to melt the longer he tries to maintain eye contact with Louis, blue eyes amused and narrowed just a little bit, like he knows Harry’s thoughts are quickly heading towards being not very family-friendly.

“Boring,” Louis hums at him, turning away to grab his cup to toss in the bin. “Have fun with that, Curly.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, mouth dry. Louis’ muscles are even more defined up close. They stretch as he bends down to open the lid of the rubbish bin. He’s all long and lean in his arms and back with the slightest bit of softness around his middle, right above the waistline of his joggers which are hanging low on his hips. He’s also barefoot, the hemline of his joggers bunching around his feet. Why is that so endearing.

“I’m gonna go do that, now,” Harry says, starting to back away. His right side bumps into the corner of the counter, sharp pain shooting through his waist but he doesn’t slow down. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay,” Louis calls back, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Don’t study too hard, Curly!”

“Right,” Harry huffs a chuckle, which sounds pained even to his ears, and makes a break for it.

When he’s safely back in his room, he leans his head back against the door and hits it three times against the wood.

“No,” he tells himself out loud, voice low even though no one else is around to hear. “No.”

He promised he wouldn’t get involved in anything when he’s so busy. He _literally_ doesn’t have time for this. He’s got his internship. He’s got midterms. He’s got to be thinking about his thesis soon. He can’t get involved, not with Louis, not with _anyone_.

But Louis isn’t just anyone, and Harry buries his head in his textbooks to try to forget about it. It doesn’t work.

\----

Louis’ sisters enter in a flurry of hugs, glitter, Snapchat, and giggles. Thankfully, no one else is in the flat as they creep around it in a completely obtrusive but necessary (as they put it) way. Louis admires his sisters’ tenacity to inspect anything and everything when it comes to Louis. They don’t admire when he does the same.

He let them invade Niall’s room easily because he knows Niall wouldn’t care, and they peered into Liam’s, but it’s when Louis runs to the bathroom quickly does he hear the giggles from the back bedroom.

Harry’s bedroom.

“Charlotte and Felicite!” Louis yells as he zips up his jeans and hobbles out of the bathroom in a rush to get to Harry’s room.

Both of them open the door to greet him, smug looks on their faces. He despises his sisters. He swears he does.

“Didn’t have a problem with us going into Liam or Niall’s room,” Lottie shrugs.

Fizzy twists a piece of hair around her finger. “But you came running at the first sign of us going in Harry’s room.”

Louis sputters for a second and then crosses his arms. “That means nothing.”

Lottie looks at him curiously for a moment, then decides to take pity on him by some grace of God. “Oh, that's so cute. You haven't realized it yet.”

Fizzy looks to her sister and smirks. “Bless, that's so sweet.”

Louis has realized _a lot_ of things, especially about Harry and his want to make him laugh all the time.

Louis pulls out his phone. “Get out of there before I post those pictures of you two in year seven and five on Facebook.”

They squeal and run out of the room. He's so glad he saved those pictures on his phone.

He takes a moment to himself, the realization that this is actually the first time he’s _in_ Harry’s room smacking him in the face like a rogue football. He knows the other lads wouldn’t mind, but he doesn’t want to invade Harry’s privacy. He lets himself breathe in the smell of the room, a musky mixture of mint and a cologne Louis doesn’t recognize, and he glances around the walls briefly - sees a poster of Manchester United, a framed photograph, and a busted-up guitar hanging on a hook - before walking back out and shutting the door behind him.

He got his sisters out of Harry’s room. That's the good news. He managed to swerve their comments about Harry before he got home.

The bad news is Harry decides to come home right when they're in middle of their Summer Nights dance during their millionth rewatch of Grease.

No one even notices him come in until Harry’s voice joins in with Louis’ for the male part: “Well she was good, you know what I mean.”

Louis whips around so fast to the source of the deep voice, he slips and falls flat on his arse.

His sisters giggle entirely too loud as Harry runs over.

“You know you did say I could kill you with music,” Harry comments as he helps Louis back to his feet.

“Well, you almost succeeded there,” Louis jokes and brushes himself off, standing tall. “Didn't expect you home so soon. These giggling brats,” Louis points to the girls who are laughing like mad, “are my sisters, Lottie and Fizzy.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry,” Lottie smiles sweetly, but there’s something very mirthful in her eyes. Fizzy looks exactly the same. Louis is going to kill them.

Harry’s eyebrows furrow just for a moment before his expression spreads out to an easy smile. “How’d you know I was Harry and not Niall or Liam?”

This was a horrible decision and he should have went home for the weekend instead of inviting his sisters here. He’s basically hoping for the world to swallow him up. He can’t stop them because that’ll be obvious, but he also can’t let them say anything. Christ, how many times did Louis mention Harry in their weekly Skype calls? How many times? He needs to control himself better.

“Louis has talked about you a lot,” Fizzy tells him pointedly, which throws Lottie into another fit of giggles. Harry practically burns red and looks to Louis for some sort of assurance.

Louis can do nothing but rub his hand over his face and look mildly sheepish. But looking at Harry, watching him, he knows the feeling is definitely, definitely mutual.

“Well!” Louis yells way too loudly, clapping his hands. “Let’s finish watching Grease, girls. Harry, you’re welcome to join us.”

Lottie and Fizzy settle back into the couch while Louis dawdles for a second, glancing at Harry to see where he decides to go.

“I’ll join you. Just because it’s one of my favorite movies,” Harry sits down next to Louis, a large enough space between them that both Liam and Niall could fit.

Louis almost wants to laugh. Lottie and Fizzy definitely do laugh. His sisters are awful.

Harry runs a hand through his hair, and Louis rewinds the movie back to when Harry interrupted. They’re not missing a second of this movie.

Harry settles in just as the movie picks up where they left off. It’s going to be a long afternoon.

\----

Thankfully Niall comes in while Harry is making them lunch, although it doesn’t do anything to stop the knowing looks. Harry had offered, and Louis wasn’t going to turn down cheese toasties for lunch when someone was offering. His sisters weren’t either, he taught them better than that.

Niall had barged in asking for his portion of cheese toasties, and jumped into conversation easily. He had even chimed in giving his sisters advice while talking about boys and Lottie’s dream of making it as a makeup artist.

“I have a friend, maybe you can work with her, or talk to her for some connections and advice. She’s been working with this girl group in London for a while. Name’s Lou Teasdale. I can text her later for ya,” Niall tells her, mouth full.

Lottie’s jaw drops and she looks at Niall like he’s an angel. The mouth full of food makes it a little harder to picture. “That’d be amazing. Like proper amazing. How do you even know her?”

“I'm doing music, multimedia, and electronics here. I do a lot of work with a lot of people,” Niall shrugs. “Harry, can you make me another?”

Lottie launches into a conversation of makeup artists around London showing Fizzy and Louis and even Harry all different people and the online portfolio she’s been working on. Louis knows she’s been working on it along with doing her A-levels. He’s extremely proud of her.

Louis isn’t sure how much Harry knows about makeup (though based on Gemma’s pictures he’s guessing at least a little), but Harry is completely attentive and supportive as Lottie goes on and on. It makes Louis’ insides warm.

He doesn’t even notice he’s staring at Harry completely fondly until his phone beeps with a notification.

A text from Fizzy: _Check your snapchat!_

Louis opens Snapchat curiously, to find two snaps from Fizzy. One is of him trying to help Harry cook, Harry looking at him with a fond face as Louis bends over the skillet, eyebrows furrowed as he tries not to burn anything. Louis screenshots it immediately, without even second guessing. The second is of him from one minute ago, staring at Harry fondly as Harry listened to Lottie enthusiastically. It’s so gross. He screenshots that one, too.

He ignores the laughter from Fizzy and confused look from Harry when Fizzy shows it to Lottie, cutting into her story.

He’s pretty sure that Harry sees it from the angle he’s sitting at, though, when he winks across the table, blush high on his cheeks.

He’s also pretty sure that he hears Harry quietly ask Fizzy to send it to him. So.

Feeling is definitely mutual, then.

Fuck. Boners are so much easier than feelings.


	2. Fall Semester B

Midterms descend all too quickly for Harry, and he forgets what it’s like to have a life outside of burying his head in his books and laptop, whether that’s in his bedroom or the library. He doesn’t have a midterm for his composition class, but his other courses are sure to be a pain in the arse. He has both a paper and an exam for his medieval literature course and he has a listening exam on Gregorian chants (he’s trying not to think too much about that one).

The Tuesday following Louis’ sisters’ visit, Harry is back in the library and midway through his exams. He’s with a group of classmates from his medieval literature class going over key terms they need to know for the exam. They’ve been there for an hour and Harry is starting to get frustrated with how very little he seems to retaining and how very much he cares in comparison to the douchebag Andy whose phone keeps going off from texts from his girlfriend.

Again, they’ve been there for an hour. There’s only so many times Harry can hear _ding_ without wanting to go postal.

Another fifteen minutes goes by and Harry is in the middle of highlighting a passage in his handouts when he feels the ghost of a touch on his shoulder, so soft he almost thinks he imagined it until he hears a, “Hey, Tommo!”

Harry looks up to see Andy waving to a figure over Harry’s shoulder. Harry turns to see Louis standing behind him.

“Hey, mate,” Louis greets back, a quick nod to acknowledge Andy. Then his attention is entirely on Harry.

Up close, Harry can see the ginger scruff Louis hasn’t shaved off coating his chin and a bit of his neck. He’s got a dark blue beanie pulled over his head, the tiniest bit of fringe peeking out from below the hem. He’s wearing a teal Adidas hoodie and joggers. His hands, small as they may be, are clutching two cups from Starbucks. He’s looking at Harry with a soft but mostly unreadable expression.

“Hey,” Harry says, turning more fully in his seat to look up at Louis. He’s grateful for the reprieve; his hand was starting to cramp.

“Hey,” Louis replies quietly, more softly than Harry has heard him speak before. “Niall asked me to grab you from the library. He ordered dinner for us all.”

“Really?” Harry asks. He glances down at his sheets spread over the table, his pink highlighter that had rolled away still uncapped and inking up part of his study guide. “I was going to keep working for a bit.”

“C’mon,” Louis says, rolling his shoulder in the direction of the exit. “You need to eat. You’ve been here for hours.”

“How do you know?” Harry asks.

“‘Cause you were gone when I left for my midterm at eleven and you’re still here. Did you even have lunch?”

Harry didn’t, but he doesn’t want to say that, so he keeps quiet.

Louis gets a self-satisfied smirk on his face and gives Harry a knowing look. “Come on,” he repeats. “You can study more later. But now, food.”

Harry’s brain is too fried to protest any more, so he just starts gathering his things. The rest of his group mutter goodbyes as he has shoves everything in his bag. Andy’s phone goes off again.

Harry follows Louis to the exit. Once outside in the fresh air, Harry automatically feels better. His head feels less foggy and he can breathe.

“You know Andy?” he asks conversationally as he and Louis begin to take the steps back down to the path.

“A bit,” Louis answers as he pulls on the drawstrings of his hoodie. “Seen him at parties. Bit of a prat, really.”

Harry smiles to himself at that, pulling his bag strap higher up his shoulder. He jumps a bit in surprise when Louis jerks one of the cups he’s holding at Harry.

“What’s this?” Harry asks, taking the cup from Louis and holding it close to his chest. It warms his hands against the cold November wind. The wind _smells_ like winter is approaching. Harry’s nose burns from the cold and he wishes he had a beanie of his own.

“Hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. And I asked the girl to drizzle extra chocolate syrup on top,” Louis says simply. His voice is muffled a bit by the wind. “I thought you could use a pick-me-up that involved chocolate.”

Harry stops walking and it takes Louis a few strides to notice that Harry is no longer next to him. When he does, he pauses and turns around. “What?” he asks.

Harry is, for lack of a better word, speechless. He gapes at Louis in what he knows is a completely unattractive manner, curls blowing in front of his eyes and his cheeks starting to get bitten red from the cold, but he just keeps staring.

“What?” Louis asks again, turning around fully and stepping close to Harry again. “What’s wrong? Do you not like hot chocolate?”

What’s wrong is that Harry is standing in the middle of a pathway staring at Louis and his pink nose and pink lips and he has never wanted to kiss somebody more in his entire life than he does in this moment.

Harry shakes his head, the movement clearing his head and helping him form words again. “No, no, that isn’t it,” Harry says. “I just…”

Louis looks at him expectantly, lips curling up in a smile.

“Thank you,” Harry settles on. His cheeks are definitely red and now he’s not even sure if it’s from the cold or embarrassment. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Louis shrugs. “I wanted to,” he says like it’s no big deal. But it is a big deal.

“Still,” Harry presses on, “thank you.”

Louis shrugs again but his smile grows. “You’re welcome.” Then: “Come on, Curly. Let’s get home before we get hypothermia.” He starts walking again but Harry thinks he sees a bit of a blush on Louis’ cheeks too.

Harry can’t be sure, but he’s willing to bet Louis might just be the loveliest thing in the world.

After this hot chocolate, of course.

\----

Louis survives midterms and manages to not fall asleep on his kids while student teaching, all to make it to Thursday night.

Niall had said, in no uncertain terms, that Louis was not to miss Thursday night. (Louis had put up a modest fight but he’s pretty sure Niall is well aware that Louis had no intention of skipping out.)

Thursday night brings an open mic night at a somewhat dingy student pub a few blocks from the flat and Harry’s first non-school performance of the year. From what Liam had mentioned the other day, Harry likes to perform at open mic nights once in awhile so he can play stuff he likes without worrying about getting graded on it. Louis hasn’t actually heard Harry play anything substantial yet, just bits and pieces of songs on guitar drifting out of his semi-closed door and, once, the tail end of Harry singing in the shower, though his voice was muffled by the stream of water. Louis refuses to admit it to anyone other than himself, but he really is curious to see Harry perform for real.

Harry doesn’t come home before his performance, so Louis heads to the pub with Liam and Niall. It’s a bit of a hole in a wall place, paint peeling off the building to expose weathered red brick underneath. A battered wood sign hangs above the door declaring the place to be “Rusty’s” and Louis can’t help it, he scoffs at the originality of the name. He follows behind Liam and Niall into the building and is assaulted by a deluge of sounds and smells.

Rusty’s might not be much to look at, but inside the place is packed. Louis can see they’re mostly uni students, or maybe kids fresh out. Pushed into a corner are two pool tables, only one of which is occupied. There are multiple tables and booths, most of them occupied as well, and a heavy line at the bar. There’s a sheen of smoke in the air and Louis can smell grease from fish and chips.

“Li!” shouts a voice over the crowd.

Louis turns in time to see Trevor fighting his way through a small crowd of people heading to the bar. He’s holding four beers.

Niall wastes no time in grabbing one of the beers from Trevor and wrapping an arm around his shoulder before he can even reach Liam. “Have I told you lately that I love you?” he asks, squeezing Trevor’s shoulder and taking a long pull from the glass.

“You told me two days ago,” Trevor answers, grinning and shaking his mess of blonde curls out of his eyes. He holds two of the glasses out to Louis and Liam and smiles at Liam this ridiculously gross smile that Louis is going to give him shit about later. “Hey babe,” he greets Liam. “Hey Louis.”

“Hey,” Louis says, raising his glass. “Cheers.”

“No problem. The line is crazy,” Trevor says, craning his neck back to the bar. “I tossed my jacket at a table near the stage. I hope it’s still there.” He chuckles and rolls his eyes when Niall starts tugging him backwards. “Okay, looks like we’re going then.”

Liam and Louis follow Trevor and Niall to the tables set up in front of a low makeshift stage, Trevor’s jacket thankfully still reserving their spot. They sit down, Liam and Trevor on one side and Louis and Niall on the other. Louis hasn’t even taken a swallow from his glass yet while Niall is almost three quarters of the way through his. Barely a minute passes before the lights of the pub dim slightly and a single spotlight ignites on the stage.

A guy who looks to be in his mid-thirties with a leather jacket and dark facial hair steps on stage carrying a single microphone. He props it up and flicks a switch on the side. He taps the mouthpiece.

“Hi everyone,” he greets, voice low. “Welcome to the the first open mic night of the year. We’ve got some great performers tonight. I think you’ll enjoy them. Everyone please give a hand for our first performer, Mallory.”

A smattering of applause breaks out throughout the crowd while the guy steps down off the stage and a girl steps from behind a curtain Louis didn’t notice before. She’s short, probably about five feet, and holding a guitar. Her hair is black with purple streaks and her nails are painted black too. Louis wonders if there was a certain look she was going for here.

“Hello,” she says into the microphone. A few people in the crowd call hello back. “My name is Mallory. I have an original for you tonight. Thanks for listening.”

She starts playing and she really isn’t that bad, actually. Louis isn’t sure what the song is about, the lyrics a bit all over the place and sounding like a year twelve poetry assignment, but it’s kind of pretty.

The guy that follows her is named Dave and Louis isn’t really sure what happened there beyond some aborted guitar playing and a lot of sensual caressing of the mic stand. Louis focuses most of his attention on nursing his beer and laughing at Trevor and Liam across the table when they try to sneak kisses but Niall kicks Liam’s foot under the table to throw him off. It might be a bit rude to Dave, but Louis doesn’t think Dave is fully with it anyway.

A few more performers come and go and Louis feels bad that his attention is starting to drift, but he's here for Harry (he can at least admit that much) and he's growing impatient. Finally the boy in question steps out from behind the curtain. A much louder smattering of applause breaks out amongst the crowd, Niall hooting louder than all the rest. Louis joins in on the clapping and sees Harry’s dimpled smile as he literally steps into the spotlight.

From here, Louis is allowed to look because everyone else is looking too. Harry has on sinfully tight black jeans and an almost-sheer black shirt that is partially unbuttoned. The glare from the light drowns out his tattoos, but Louis can see them when Harry moves to adjust the height of the microphone. His right thumb is painted black. On his feet are a pair of sparkly gold boots. His hair is in loose curls that frame his face and fall to his shoulders, the waves rocking back and forth as Harry adjusts his guitar strap.

“Hello,” he greets into the microphone, voice deep and morbid as ever. He’s still smiling. “My name is Harry Styles.” Applause erupts again and he ducks his eyes bashfully. “You’re very nice,” he chuckles. “I have two songs for you tonight. The first one I’m going to play for you is an original. So now’s a good time to get another drink or go to the loo.” The crowd laughs but when Louis glances around, he sees no one moves. “This is called Happily.”

A few seconds later, Harry launches into an up-tempo acoustic song, fingers flying over the strings as he bops along. When he starts singing, Louis feels like his heart falls out of his stomach. Harry’s voice is deep and raspy. Louis can almost feel it vibrate in his skin. The crowd claps along in time and Niall even mouths along to some of the words.

Louis is hit with his second assault of the night, which is that Harry is a natural. He fills the space of the small stage like he owns it, and for the duration of the song he does. He’s meant to be there, smiling as he sings and tapping his foot to the beat. He lights up in a way Louis hasn’t seen before, like he’s glowing from within. The spotlight has nothing on the happiness that Louis can see shining out of Harry’s blazing green eyes.

When Harry finishes the song, Louis is pretty sure he hasn’t breathed in about three minutes and Niall managed to finish off the rest of his beer when he wasn’t watching. Though to be fair, Louis hasn’t been watching anything but Harry for quite a bit now.

Harry is slightly out of breath when he says, “Thank you very much” over the whistles and claps and cheers from the crowd. Niall is clapping like mad, Liam is hollering out whoops of praise, and Trevor is whistling with his fingers. Harry takes a step back from the microphone and holds his hands together in front of him like he’s praying, nodding his head in appreciation, still smiling and still glowing. After a few seconds he steps back to the microphone and says, “Thank you” again.

The cheers die down and Harry looks around the pub. His eyes land on his table of friends at the front. Louis’ breath catches when Harry shoots him a wink and grins before looking to Niall and making a funny face. He re-tunes his guitar as he starts talking again. “So this next one is not an original,” he starts, “though I do wish I’d written it. I listened to it a lot after a bad breakup one time. If you have a thing for early 2000s pop like me, or you’ve ever gone through a really shitty end of something, a relationship or friendship maybe, this one is for you.”

Sensing things just got more serious, the crowd quiets down once again and is eerily silent as Harry starts playing again. For a good fifteen seconds, the only sound that can be heard in the formerly loud pub is Harry’s guitar. Then, Harry starts singing.

“Of all the things I believed in, I just want to get it over with.”

Louis freezes.

Around him, no one else moves. No one gets up to the go to the bathroom or the bar. No one even moves in their seats, gazes completely unwavering from Harry on stage. Louis’s eyes are glued to Harry.

He’s different this way, but no less mesmerizing. His eyes are partially shut as he sings, mouth close to the microphone and fingers sure as they strum out the notes. Where before he was bouncy, now he seems content to sway gently back and forth with his guitar. His face is impassive as he sings, like he was sad before and now is detached from it all. It’s a complete change from just a few minutes ago when he was all dimples and grins. He only breaks once, very briefly, when he spots Niall hold up his phone and start to wave it back and forth, screen glowing in the dingy light. He lets himself smirk slightly before he evens his face again, but his gaze lands on Louis.

Louis feels completely on display when Harry looks at him, like Harry can read every thought he has on his face. Listening to Harry is like being seventeen all over again, lying in bed with his iPod playing Goodbye to You on repeat after Louis saw his boyfriend Nathan kissing another guy at a party. Looking back, he might have been a little melodramatic. He and Nathan had only been going out for a month when it happened, but with how upset he was it might as well have been a year. With Harry looking at him, Louis is back in his childhood room, shades drawn, earbuds in, and a pillow that his mum always used lavender detergent on clutched to his chest as he played the song over and over.

When Harry glances away to the rest of the crowd, Louis feels his body release tension he didn’t realize he even had. It makes him uncomfortable, like Harry just opened up his heart and picked out one of his more painful memories and laid it out on the stage for everyone to see. And it doesn’t feel fair.

But then Louis remembers what Harry said before he started singing. _I listened to it a lot after a bad breakup one time_. With a start, Louis realizes it isn’t really his own heart Harry put on display; it's Harry's. They just happen to mirror each other.

The song draws to a close and Harry’s playing gets softer. His eyes return to Louis’ face when he finishes with, “You’re my shooting star.”

When the music stops, the crowd erupts into the loudest applause it has all night. Harry’s smile is back, teeth on display and cheeks dimpling as he does a brief little nod.

“Thank you so much,” he says into the microphone. “You've been lovely. Thank you for listening.” Then he steps back behind the curtain and disappears from view.

A minute or so later, another girl comes on stage and begins to set up for her performance. Just before she begins playing, Louis hears a screech of metal on the floor to his left. He doesn't need to look to know who it is. He can feel it, every nerve ending igniting as Harry pulls a chair next to him, into his space, and settles there like he belongs there.

Louis glances to his left to see Liam nudging a fresh beer to Harry and apparently sometime in the last couple of minutes Niall went and got another round because there are new glasses in front of all of them. He doesn't get a chance to say anything to Harry because the girl - he didn't even hear her name - starts to sing.

Louis’ attention is gone, anyway. It's still on Harry on stage, eyes twinkling and fingers sure as he played his music. It's on Harry next to him right now smelling like smoke and mint and maybe even a little cinnamon, hairline sweaty and eyes peeled to the stage. It's on how close Harry's thigh is to his own, skin separated only by the denim of their jeans and a hairbreadth of space. Louis feels warm all over, even in his hands as they clutch the glass of beer starting to fog with condensation. He doesn't know what to do.

He waits until the girl finishes the two songs she chose to play, both covers Louis doesn't recognize, before he pushes his glass away and stands up.

“I'm gonna go outside for a bit,” Louis announces to the table. “Get some air.”

“Okay!” Liam says. “Be careful!” Because of course Liam would be worried about Louis standing outside a crowded pub on a sidewalk when it's barely nine at night.

“Always am,” Louis replies. He makes a break for it before any of the other boys say anything else or suggest they join. He just needs a minute.

It's bloody freezing outside when he finally pushes his way through the door. He'd left his jacket on his chair. His breath ghosts in front of his face and dances away on the wind. He pulls his pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and digs for his lighter, too. Might as well.

He's just taken his first drag when a familiar voice says from behind him, “Pretty sure sucking up carcinogens is the opposite of getting air.”

When Louis turns, Harry is standing right there. Because of course he is.

Louis smirks and says, “S’still air. Just got other things in it, too.”

Harry rolls his eyes but doesn't reply. He walks forward to stand next to Louis. He's got to be cold. He doesn't have a coat on and his shirt is still unbuttoned.

Before he can stop himself, Louis is saying, “Aren't you worried about getting frostbite on your nipples?”

Barely a second passes when Harry barks a laugh and tugs his shirt tighter over his chest. “Well I've got two extra ones if they freeze off.”

“Really?” Louis asks, turning to face Harry and blowing out a stream of smoke. “Let's see ‘em, then.”

“No way!” Harry says, stepping back and smiling wide. “I'm not exposing myself so you can have a free show!”

“Chicken,” Louis says, grinning and stepping towards Harry again.

“Uh uh,” Harry replies, still laughing. “Not happening.”

“What would it take?” Louis presses, eyes glistening with mirth. And _what_ is he doing. This is heading into dangerous territory. He needs to stop, needs to pull back.

Harry, though, just pauses and looks thoughtful for a moment. Louis watches the expressions flicker over his face, pensive and then stoic. He jumps a little when Harry reaches forward and plucks his cigarette from between his fingers, bringing the bud to his own lips and taking a drag.

“I'm sure you'll think of something,” Harry says simply, then drops the cigarette to the ground and crushes it under his boot.

The moment freezes, Louis looking at Harry looking back at him. Twin expressions of anticipation, need and want bubbling beneath the surface. There's plenty of air but Louis can't breathe, can't do anything but think about what Harry just said.

Did he just…? Does he want…?

_Fuck._

Louis bites his lower lip and he could swear he sees Harry's eyes darken ever so slightly. Then the moment is broken with the front door to the pub crashing open and a loud Irish voice going, “Shots! Tommo, Haz! What are you doing out here? We're doing shots!”

Louis feels it the second the moment snaps, feels it like a tangible loss in his chest when Harry steps back and smiles at Niall. Harry runs a hand through his hair, shakes his head and ruffles his curls as he takes a step towards Niall.

“Let's have it, then,” he says. He looks over his shoulder and gives Louis a soft smile. “Yeah, Lou?”

Louis gives himself a second, just one to bask in feeling Harry's eyes on his and being on the receiving end of his dorky smile. He lets the warmth of that seep into his bones, fighting off the cold and settling into his chest.

Then he flashes his devilish grin and steps towards the door as well, Niall still hovering there and probably letting all the cold in. “Bet I can beat you.”

Harry's eyes narrow in challenge and he smirks. “You're on.”

\----

Niall has had enough.

“I’ve had enough!” Niall declares loudly as he enters Liam’s room.

Liam doesn’t even look up from his laptop.

Fucking wanker. People have got to stop doing that to him.

“Liam, my dear darling friend,” Niall tries again. “Our plan didn’t work and I’ve had enough.”

Liam has the decency to look amused. He’s got a smile on his face and Niall knows he’s won. “I know Niall. They’re still not fucking. But, I don’t know what you want me to do about it. Leave them be for now. It’s still new. I think they’ve just realized.” Liam’s got a mini-frown now, like he feels badly about trying to involve himself. “Don’t get involved anymore.”

Niall groans loudly. He hasn’t got the time for them to just realize. “I can’t deal with this Liam. I can’t deal with awkward smiles and shy boners. I haven’t got the patience for it! I need them to skip this stage and go right to the shagging and dating and marriage and babies.”

Liam rolls his eyes exasperatedly. Honestly, fuck him. Niall isn’t bringing him back food. “We’ve tried open mic night, and we’ve tried laser tag. What else do you want to get them to do?”

Niall thinks for a moment. Laser tag worked because it made them friends. Open mic night worked because they like each other. Now they’ve got to realize that they want to like, do it.

What makes people horny?

Niall stares at Liam for a moment. “A club! We’ll go to a club!”

Liam sighs, but it’s completely fond. Niall likes him again. “I’ll make sure everyone is free.”

Niall throws a fist into the air yelling “yes!” loudly. He looks around Liam’s room for a moment, grabbing his stomach. “Want’a grab lunch?”

\----

“It’s time!” Niall waltzes into Louis’ room without even knocking.

“What time is it?” Louis barely even looks up from his lesson planning template. He’s got two more lessons to go for the following week and he’s actually super fucking excited to be done.

“Time for shots. It’s club night,” Niall sings.

Louis looks up slowly. “Excuse me?”

Niall looks at him solemnly. “You see, when midterms are over, there comes a time when a man needs to get drunk and let loose. That time is now.”

“I only had one midterm though.”

Niall rolls his eyes and stomps impatiently. It very much reminds Louis of his youngest siblings. The toddler twins. Keyword there being toddler. “Just put on an outfit to get laid in and fucking come on. You’ve got 45 minutes.”

Louis watches as Niall stomps out of the room, eyes narrowed. He’s got no idea why Niall thinks he needs to get laid and is trying to make it his business but he shrugs anyway. Looks like he’s going out tonight. Might as well look decent.

25 minutes later, Louis still has no clue what to wear when Liam walks in.

“Damn Leemo,” Louis whistles at Liam’s baby blue button down and his dark jeans. His hair is even gelled. “Trevor gonna last all night?”

Liam giggles. “What are you wearing?”

Louis stares at his closet again. Why is everyone concerned with his clothing choices? “No clue, my boy, no clue.”

“Well then,” Liam smiles, a little bit too mischievously for Louis’ liking. Honestly, what the fuck is up with Niall and him? “Let me help you out.”

Liam shifts through Louis’ closet while Louis sits on the bed, idly checking his phone. He can hear Liam’s mutterings while he looks up into his mirror, flicking the stray strands of his hair up to give it a bit of a cinnamon whirl effect as Lottie dubbed it.

“Here,” Liam throws Louis’ tightest black skinnies, a thin t-shirt, and his black jean jacket at him.

Louis eyes Liam curiously. “Are you and Niall up to something?”

Liam blushes scarlet. “No, why do you ask that?”

“Because this outfit will probably make me look hotter than need be for a dingy club.” Something off settles in Louis’ stomach. “What are you trying to do?

“Nothing!” Liam rushes to the door just as the faint sound of Niall whistling at what can only be Harry cuts through the room.

They wouldn’t. They truly wouldn’t. Because that implies whatever is going on with Harry is mutually obvious enough that it’s detectable even to their roommates and friends. So much that they’d want to do something about it.

No.

“I’ll wear it,” Louis says anyway, rolling his eyes at Liam practically wagging his tail in response. “Get out you big goon!” Louis shoves Liam out of his bedroom, before throwing on the outfit quickly and admiring himself in the mirror. He fixes his hair one more time. Not too shabby, he thinks to himself.

“Tommo! Let’s go!” Niall calls out.

Louis grabs his wallet and phone and walks out of the room, bracing himself for Harry’s outfit. He’d been mentally preparing since he heard Niall’s whistling.

It doesn’t help. Harry’s in a practically silk light peach top (blouse) and the tightest black trousers known to man. Wait a minute. Louis’ heart actually stops. They’re fucking leather pants.

Louis’ brain short circuits as he drags his eyes over Harry’s thighs covered in leather, and up Harry’s narrow torso where his smooth chest is exposed (of course, he has no decency).

Louis’ practically panting.

He looks up to Harry’s eyes quickly only to find them locked on his in the same sort of visceral panic.

Fuck.

Niall laughs loudly, almost gleefully (they so fucking know), and wraps his arms around both of their shoulders.

“To the club!” he bellows.

Louis adjusts himself discreetly. He has a feeling he’s going to be doing that a lot tonight.

\----

Louis is four shots deep and pleasantly buzzed. He’s also starting to sway a little too close to Harry every time they so much as speak.

It really is a dingy club, but Niall knows the bartender and the DJ. There’s sweaty uni kids everywhere, and Louis is pretty sure the loo is quite the hotspot.

The music is pounding, but it’s a really good mix of songs and they all can’t help themselves but sing and dance ridiculously. They’re in a tight circle, Liam and Trevor dancing close as Louis and Harry sing to Niall about his ass (at least for one song).

Niall also keeps eyeing them suspiciously, noting their closeness, and it’s starting to make Louis sweat.

He needs more to drink.

It’s after 15 more minutes of watching Harry wiggle his hips that he decides he’s had enough. He needs a shot _and_ a drink.

“Anyone want anything to drink?” Louis yells, leaning in closer to Harry than necessary.

Harry grabs his ear in pain, laughing, shaking his head no in response to the question.

The other lads do the same (without the unnecessary ear grab, of course).

Louis makes a vague gesture towards the bar and practically runs off.

He makes it to the bar and orders a shot of whiskey immediately just to take off the edge.

He can’t do Niall’s knowing looks as him and Harry start to dance a little closer than they should. He can’t do the hooded eyes from Harry everytime he looks at him. He can’t do Harry’s long neck glistening with a coat of sweat from dancing so much. He can’t do Harry shaking his perky little bum in those fucking leather pants.

He takes the shot, the drink burning his throat like liquid smoke but at least it takes his mind off Harry for a moment. He can’t fucking do it.

He orders a cosmo and waits as the bartender flits around.

“Service here, right?” the kid next to Louis speaks up.

“I know mate,” Louis replies, looking at the kid next to him. Brown hair, brown eyes, pretty lips, young face. He can’t be old enough to even get alcohol let alone comment on the state of service. He looks at him again.

“Come here every Saturday and it’s always a bitch to get a drink.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Saturday they let the youngins in?”

The kid laughs. “I’m legal,” he flirts.

Abort. Louis does not want to be flirting with this baby faced kid, not at all. Abort, abort. He’s got bigger fish to fry than a baby at a club. Bigger fish. Bigger fish who are looking directly at him.

“Good to know,” Louis nods, as the bartender finally hands him his drink. It's bright yellow and when he takes a sip he tastes mango. He closes the tab and tips the bartender. He turns to the boy to speak again, maybe ask about a footie match or something just to keep the green green eyes that are across the room on him. Louis feels hot all over at the intense gaze those green eyes are giving him when the kid leans in.

He brushes the collar of Louis jacket and then withdraws his hand back. “What about you? Can’t be that much older than me with this _very_ stylish jacket.”

Louis laughs, leaning in a bit. “It was a good choice, wasn’t it?”

The kid rakes his eyes over Louis unashamedly. Liam did a good job picking out his outfit then. Atta boy, Liam. “Excellent choice,” he admires.

Louis just about preens at the compliment but.

There’s a hand on the back of his neck.

He stills.

The hand is enveloping his entire neck firmly, but still soft at the same time. Louis practically sags into it, his entire body relaxing. All that white noise that was buzzing in his head, the buzzing that’s always in his head, is completely gone. He knows that hand, the long fingers and cool touch of the rings against his overheated skin, the hot heat of the body behind him. He knows that body very well.

“Louis,” Harry says, his pointer finger pressing a little deeper in Louis’ neck. Louis breath catches. “Niall just ordered all of us a round of shots, come on. They’re waiting for you.”

The kid looks back and forth between the two of them, a little helplessly. “I was-”

Harry’s hand is still on the back of Louis’ neck, a solid reminder of his presence. He digs his fingers in, imperceptible to anyone else but Louis can feel the pressure in his blood. “I’m sorry, were you in the middle of something?” Harry asks, and it’s completely, totally a rhetorical question. Because he pulls them away from the bar immediately, practically dragging Louis behind him, hand around his wrist. Fuck. Louis should not be turned on right now. He should not be at all. Harry just pulled him away from some kid just because...what? He leaned in a little too close, touched a little too close to Louis’ neck?

Or was Harry telling the truth and Niall was just requesting him?

“Louis’ back! Time for those shots, right Niall?” Harry forces out a little too enthusiastically as they approach Niall, Liam, and Trevor who are in an animated conversation.

Niall looks at Harry oddly. “Uh.” Harry throws him a murderous look, and Louis’ heart catapults out of his chest. There’s his confirmation. “Oh, yeah, shots! Perfect! Glad you’re back, Lou. I was waiting for you.”

Liam and Trevor are absolutely losing it, arms loose around each other’s waists as they watch the exchange with amusement.

Harry looks like he might shit a brick. “I’ll get the shots.”

Harry runs to the bar.

He comes back a few minutes later with five shots, more or less shoving them at the group.

Louis raises the shot to his lips, locking eyes with Harry. Harry just stares back, refusing to be intimidated or embarrassed like he was minutes before. He winks once before downing his shot in one go. Louis has to immediately take his in order to stop himself from watching Harry’s long neck and the way his throat bobs swallowing the alcohol. It’s very hot in the club suddenly.

Two cosmos and three more shots later, Louis is absolutely, positively smashed and Harry still hasn’t so much as looked at him. But, Harry’s words are just as slurred as his and his movements are much more uncoordinated than usual. They’re both swaying closer than before, dance moves getting bigger and closer together the more they drink. Harry gets particularly close when he sings along to a song the same time as Louis, them both yelling the lyrics in each other’s faces happily.

Niall bumps into Louis during one particularly hard hip thrust, causing him to bump into Harry, almost taking both of them down.

It’s the skin to skin contact, the white hot heat between them, that makes Louis excuse himself to go get another drink that he really doesn't need.

When he comes back, he stops for a moment.

Harry has seemingly disappeared.

The song changes to Talk Dirty, and Niall and Louis are in the middle of an extravagant dance off when Louis spots him.

A boy has got his hands around Harry’s waist, trying to lure him in while Harry giggles. There’s the faintest line in his back where Louis thinks he might, just _might_ , be tense. But it might be the lighting and it might be the something that is seething into every ounce of his being, seeing another boy touching Harry.

He’s jealous. He’s really fucking jealous and he’s one step over the line of being smashed, so he’s definitely going to do something about it.

Louis picks up the glass he had put down of his (who knows maybe not his) drink and starts stumbling over. He’s not that drunk, but boy do those drama classes he took during undergrad pay off.

He stumbles right into Harry and the boy (and a few other people along the way) promptly spilling his drink all over the two of them.

Harry turns to him, completely mortified. The liquid spreads across the bottom hem of his shirt, a patch discoloring the peach and staining it dark.

“Louis,” he growls lowly.

“Oops,” Louis smiles sweetly.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry rushes out, turning to the guy. “Can I help you clean up, please? My friend is clearly very drunk.”  


Louis crosses his eyes. “Very drunk,” he repeats.

“Maybe you should help,” the guy suggests as Louis pretends to trip into someone, “him.”

“He’s fine, trust me,” Harry grits out, shooting another annoyed look at Louis. “Let me just get you a napkin.”

Louis snaps. Harry’s need to be nice is not helping the situation right now. He wants Harry away from the guy. Not with him. He wants Harry to himself. He stretches his hand out to wrap around Harry by the neck and pulls him down, his mouth right next to his ear.

“You and I both know you are not going to do that.”

Harry swallows hard, throat bobbing. He glances at Louis once, then the guy who he'd been dancing with who is now dabbing at his jeans with his hand.

“My friend needs my help. He’s drunker than I thought. I’m sorry again, truly. I have to go.”

Harry grabs Louis’ arm hard enough to leave a bruise. Louis’ heart races and the alcohol is settling thick and warm in his stomach, making him almost giddy at getting such a reaction from Harry.

Harry drags him to a quiet corner of the club. Louis sweats as Harry turns to him, eyes a very, very dark shade of green. His eyebrows are pinched together in anger.

“What were you thinking?” Harry runs a hand through his hair. “You are so lucky that guy was nice about that and not someone who would start a fucking brawl over a spilled drink! A _purposely_ spilled drink!”

Louis scoffs, crossing his arms. “I’m sure he was _very_ nice.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Louis throws a hand on his hip, and juts his chin out defiantly, “he was probably just as nice as the guy I chatted with earlier. But we both know how that went.”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to scoff, which almost has Louis laughing if he weren’t so filled to the top with whatever emotion that was running through his body right now. Glee, jealousy, annoyance, lust. He gulps down mostly air, his mouth dry.

“Yeah right,” Harry rolls his eyes, “He wasn’t even fit. I did you a favor.”

“A favor? You did _me_ a favor?” Louis asks incredulously. “Then I did a huge fucking favor just now! That guy was practically slagging himself off to get his arms around you like a fucking sloth. I was saving you from a shit show,” Louis makes a face, and says lowly, pointedly, mostly to himself. “He couldn’t even pull you properly.”  


Harry’s eyes flash and there’s no way he didn’t hear Louis’ remark. “Oh, so you’re saying you know how to pull me properly then?”

And oh.

They both freeze, eyes wide with shock and anticipation and maybe a little relief at the implication that is now hanging heavy in the air between them.

Louis has two options, and the drunken side of him lets go of all inhibitions.

“Not that hard, babe,” Louis steps closer. “Just have to lean in a little, get all nice and close.”

Louis is completely in Harry’s space. Harry is still unwavering as he meets Louis’ gaze. He’s watching Louis’ every move, completely enraptured.

“Then when I’m all close, so close that you could just reach out and touch me,” Louis hips are so close to Harry’s and the heat between them is so, so hot. “I’d stay still. Just to make you the one who had to work for a dance.”

Harry swallows, eyes nervous as they dart between Louis’ face and where their hips are mostly molded together.

He reaches out anyway, the faintest grip of his rough hands on Louis’ as he grabs them in his own delicately. Harry wraps Louis’ hands around his neck, before tracing his hands down Louis’ arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It’s slow, and entirely too intimate for the moment as the crowd still pulses around them in the artificial light and stale air. Harry’s hands trail down, down his shoulders, down his sides, across his hips, burning him with every drag of his fingers, before snaking his arms around Louis’ back, and pulling him in firmly.

Louis lets out a breath, as soon as their chests meet. Their eyes lock together, every inch of their bodies pressed up together, and Louis isn’t quite sure either of them are breathing.

“Then while we’re dancing,” Harry starts to move his hips, slowly, torturously, to the beat of the music, “I’d flirt with you, just the way you like it. You like when I tease you, when I call you out on things. It makes you all flustered.”

Harry’s eyes close as he takes a ragged breath. They’re still moving, dancing entirely too close, Harry’s forehead could drop onto Louis’ at any moment. Louis breathes Harry in, the heady scent of sweat and something undeniably Harry, and rolls his hips right back to the beat of Harry’s. Their hips are completely aligned, every inch ablaze. Louis feels his jeans catch on the smooth leather of Harry's pants.

“What would you say?” Harry asks, voice low and unbelievably gruff. His lips are so close to Louis’ and his eyes trail down lower, no doubt looking at where their bodies are connected, admiring the feel of their hips and thighs moving together.

Louis can’t tell if the gruff of Harry’s voice is from being turned on or from being drunk. He doesn’t feel drunk himself anymore, not with this heavy feeling of Harry wrapped around him, pressed up against him, dancing close. Not with the intention of every movement.

Harry presses in a little closer, bringing his face to the side of Louis’ face, hair tickling Louis’ cheek. His chin brushes Louis’ ear.

Louis’ breath hitches. “I’d say,” Harry leans his face in a little closer, and Louis has no choice but to talk right into his ear. He briefly wonders if that was the point. He lowers his voice. “This is what you wanted the whole time, isn’t it? You pressed yourself up against some guy, flirted a little bit, just to get me to look. You wanted to get me jealous to get what you wanted from me. Wanted to make me jealous like I made you jealous, right, babe?”

Harry’s hips move a little faster, their dancing a little raunchier. Harry’s hips are rolling faster, a little more erratic and his hands grip Louis’ back a little tighter, venturing down to just above his arse. Louis tries to keep his breath even. He doesn't even know what the song is right now. He brushes his lips against Harry’s ear and Harry’s fingernails dig in. Louis takes it as a sign to keep talking.

“You couldn’t even wait to think of a good excuse. Just had to run up and pull me away because you couldn’t stand anyone else touching me. Didn’t know what came over you, did you?”

Harry whines breathily when Louis scrapes a blunt fingernail across the nape of his neck. It's directly into Louis’ ear and all Louis can do is pant back. It’s unbelievably hot, and Louis’ stomach is fluttering at every roll of the hips pressing harder and harder together. Their chests are pressed up against each other’s so tight, Louis can feel Harry’s heart hammering.

The dancing has officially turned filthy. Their breathing has become breathy and there’s heat spreading throughout his belly, a warm arousal simmering low in his stomach as Harry moves _just_ the right way against him. Louis unclasps his hands, and presses them down on Harry’s neck, toying with Harry’s hair. He’s so relieved to finally grasp at Harry’s hair, to get the soft curls in his hands that his fingers get caught on a knot.

Harry downright moans, loudly, and pulls on Louis’ shirt. Louis wants to feel that moan in his mouth.

Then, there’s hands on him and they don’t belong to Harry, bringing him out of the moment quickly. Louis feels disoriented for a moment, wants to bring Harry close again because any moment spent not touching Harry is a wasted moment.

“Sorry!” Liam squeaks, and Louis shakes his head to get out of the reverie and look at Liam. “We need to go!”

“Now!” Trevor adds, suddenly appearing at Liam's side. “We need to leave now!”

“What’s going on?” Louis asks, sluggishly, as they both rush forward towards the exit. Louis turns to look at Harry, who’s being dragged along with Liam, face flushed, eyes still a bit glazed. Louis feels the same as Trevor guides him with a hand on his back. He just wants to touch, reach out and grab Harry again, pull him in.

“Niall apparently made out with some girl, who is apparently dating the like second in command of some like biker gang, and they’re literally ready to brawl.”

Louis stops in his tracks. “What?”

“I’m not kidding, Louis! Let’s go!” Liam insists, pulling on Louis’ arm so he gets moving again.

Trevor literally picks up Niall along the way, and they run out of the club and to the car completely unscathed. Louis climbs into the backseat of the car, Harry after him and Niall bringing up the rear. Niall is hammering on about how he didn't know about the biker gang on Harry's other side while Liam and Trevor are teasing him from the front. Liam pulls out onto the street and they head for home, adrenaline now dying down.

Once settled, Louis looks at Harry, completely debauched from only one dance, and thinks of his boner that he only somewhat lost and his heart that won’t stop hammering. Harry’s eyes meet his and a smile spreads across his face before he starts laughing, eyes locked on Louis in the now completely silent car. Louis knows exactly what he’s laughing about. Louis barks out a laugh, which makes everyone else chime in about something else entirely.

Harry winks.

So, not _completely_ unscathed.

\----

Louis wakes up the next morning with a vague sense of nausea and the need to never leave his bed ever again.

He rolls out of bed, and groans as he makes his way towards the kitchen.

Harry’s already sitting at the table, head down with what looks like a half eaten egg toastie in front of him. And a big glass of water.

So he’s in the same boat. Louis could do with that egg toastie. But, if Harry was drunk enough last night to warrant that bad of a hangover, Louis wonders if he remembers the dance at all. Louis surely doesn’t. He doesn’t forget Harry’s moans in his ear, and definitely remembers the feeling of Harry’s body up against his, writhing and grinding.

Harry finally lifts his head up. “Want an egg toastie? I can make you one.”

“He’s alive!” Louis teases quietly, knowing if he does it too loud Niall will refuse him dinner (he’s done it before).

Harry rolls his eyes. “Egg toastie, Louis.”

Louis sighs. “Yes, I’d like a egg toastie please,” he grumbles.

Harry gets up, and starts making Louis breakfast, as Louis waits for the tea kettle to boil. He jumps up onto the counter (ignoring the nausea) and admires Harry as he cooks. He’s very pretty is the thing.

“So,” Harry starts.

Oh boy.

  
“How was last night?” Harry asks, and oh. Harry’s fishing. Louis watches him for a second longer, finally noticing the line in Harry’s back from being tense, and the line of his eyebrows deep as he stares intensely at the stove.

Harry’s nervous.

“It was nice,” Louis settles on.  


“Nice,” Harry repeats, mulling over the word. He still hasn’t lost his staring contest with the stove.

“Yeah,” Louis swings his legs, staring at the thick line of Harry’s neck, where his mouth had been pressed last night. “I quite enjoyed being pressed up against you.”

Harry’s hand wavers on the pan.

“And you know, the moans.”

Harry’s cheeks flood with color instantly as he whips his head up to meet Louis’ gaze. Louis just smiles, a soft smile to let Harry know he’s not playing, before the tea kettle blares loudly. Louis presses his side to Harry’s to make his tea, while Harry finishes the eggs.

They eat in silence, but they do play footsie under the table.

\-----

The problem is now that Louis and Harry have established that they both remembered, Louis absolutely cannot stop thinking about it. The following week for Louis is nonstop remembering every press of Harry’s body against his, every word he had whispered hotly in Harry’s ear. He plays back Harry’s pretty moans as a soundtrack, revelling in the memory and desperately wanting to repeat the memory.

He’s pretty sure even Liam has noticed his forlorn looks at Harry’s shirtless chest any time he’s shirtless because Liam had practically cornered Louis into a conversation. Liam had blurted that he felt like a cockblock and was _so unbelievably sorry_. Louis gave him shit for two hours before finally giving in, and telling him it wasn’t a big deal, and that his cock wasn’t very blocked. (Even though he’s pretty sure his cock was definitely blocked and definitely would be steadily somewhere that wasn’t in his hand if Liam hadn’t interrupted. But. He can’t be sure.)

Instead, his week consists of very little actual Harry, due to his internship and Louis’ full-on submersion into primary school, and a very large amount of Harry imagines. He keeps playing back his breathy moans every time he takes a shower, and he keeps desperately wanting to feel Harry’s hair in his hands again. Alcohol and jealousy had made him lose all those inhibitions to finally get his hands on Harry. He just doesn’t know how or when he’s going to get to do it again. All he does know is that he really fucking wants to.

\----

The Monday following club night, Liam is half-asleep on his bed with a textbook open across his chest and the TV muted on a rerun of Celebrity Big Brother. His peace is short-lived when his door slams open, hits the wall, and bounces back to smack Niall in the arm.

“Fuck!” Niall curses, stepping into the room and kicking the door shut behind him. “What the hell.”

Liam manages to roll his head over just enough to look at Niall. He yawns as he takes in Niall’s pout while he rubs his arm. “That’s what you get.”

“Funny,” Niall mutters before stepping further into the room. He takes in the papers sprawled over Liam’s bed, a pen resting on top of a notebook and another textbook resting by his feet. Ultimately, he must decide that the offending objects aren’t that big a deal because he hops up on the bed and sends a packet fluttering to the ground.

Liam just gives Niall an unimpressed look. “Really, mate?”

“We’ve got problems,” Niall says, apropos of nothing. He’s got his Serious Face on. The one he gets when he’s got plans. They’re usually meant for Liam.

Liam leans up on his elbows and fixes Niall with a look. “What problems?”

“Harry and Louis,” Niall clarifies.

Liam lets out an inaudible sigh of relief and collapses back against his bed. “I know. Club night was a fail.”

“Well it started to work!” Niall protests.

“Until we had to _run away_ ,” Liam reminds him. “Last I checked, that was _your fault_.”

“I know, I know!” Niall replies. “I fucked up. But I didn’t know she was a biker guy’s girlfriend. I’d have sacrificed myself for those two to get it on, you know that.”

Liam laughs and rubs his hands across his eyelids, rubbing sleep from them and blinking himself further awake. “So what’s your next plan, then?”

“They were _so close_ to making out,” Niall says. He looks up at the ceiling and huffs a frustrated breath. “They’re going at a snail’s pace here. I’m getting blue balls just watching them.”

“Maybe we should just let them go at their own pace,” Liam suggests. Then, at the glare Niall sends him. “Or not… But what do we do? We can’t lock them in a closet.”

Niall just stares blankly at him.

“ _Niall_ ,” Liam says incredulously. “We can’t lock them in a closet!”

“No no no,” Niall says, shaking his head. “Closet, though! Like Seven Minutes in Heaven. _We should have a party_.”

Liam gulps. Parties mean lots of people, alcohol, and probably a massive hangover. They mean tons of cleanup the next day. Liam is reminded a floor party their first year of uni and the sheer amount of Solo cups they found in odd places around the dorm over the next week. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“It’s the _perfect_ idea!” Niall continues, excitement lacing his voice. “We invite a bunch of people over, get some good snacks, booze, maybe a little pot or something. I’ll put my DJ skills to good use. And they’ll realize they want to fuck each other’s brains out!”

Liam winces at Niall’s crude explanation. “I’m not sure that’s how it works, Ni.”

Niall rolls his eyes. “Listen, without our help, those two will reach the end of the year without kissing and I refuse to sit by and suffer through their sexual tension. This is as much for us as it is for them.”

Liam takes a breath and lets it out. He’s going to need to call Trevor. “I guess.”

“I need you with me on this, Payno,” Niall says seriously. He reaches a hand out and slaps Liam on the knee. “Together, we can make Larry official.”

“Larry?”

Niall looks at Liam like he’s a few sandwiches short of a picnic. “Larry,” Niall says again like that clarifies anything. “Their ship name. Louis and Harry. Larry.”

“What the hell is a ship name?”

“Semantics!” Niall cuts him off. “So are you in, Li? Say you’re in.”

With Niall, the path of least resistance is usually the path that Niall decides is the best one for you to take. So Liam just sends a little prayer to the gods above that this won’t end badly and says, “I’m in.”

\----

Harry is perched somewhat precariously on a chair as he rigs a set of fairy lights to wrap around the living room ceiling. Liam is on the floor next to him, a hand to the back of the chair to keep it from toppling over.

“Why are we having a party, again?” Harry asks as he tests the stability of a strand of the lights stuck to the wall with a bit of tape. “We just went clubbing on Saturday.”

Liam doesn’t respond right away and Harry glances down at him. He looks slightly panicked, eyes wide and bottom lip between his teeth.

“Li?” Harry presses. He lets go of the strand of lights and puts his hands on his hips, looking down at him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” Liam replies, a giggle laced with a little bit of hysteria escaping. “Niall just thought it would be fun to do before the end of term, that’s all.”

“Right,” Harry says, not believing it. He didn’t really question it when Niall had come into his room on Monday and declared they’d be having a party Thursday night. Harry doesn’t mind parties. He likes them quite a bit, even. And now that midterms are over and his internship will be winding down in the next few weeks, a bit of his stress is starting to dissipate. But something doesn’t add up.

“You know how Niall is,” Liam goes on, waving his hand that isn’t holding onto the chair. “He just thought it would be fun.”

Yes, Harry does know how Niall is. Niall also usually has a hidden agenda for things. Harry sighs, clearly not getting anything from Liam. He will just have to keep a sharp eye.

Just as Harry has that thought, the door to the flat slams open. The man in question strolls in with a few bags in his hand, followed closely by Louis and Trevor.

“We’ve got the goods!” Niall bellows, a loud laugh echoing off the walls. “Come here, lads. See what we got!”

Liam holds onto the chair until Harry hops down, a sharp pain shooting through the top of his foot as he lands a bit awkwardly on the floor. He winces and has a bit of a limp the first few steps he takes as he walks to the kitchen counter where the other boys have started to lay out what they bought.

“You alright?” Louis asks, eyes drifting down to where Harry is still shaking out his foot.

“Just landed wrong,” he answers, giving Louis a small smile before directing his attention to the spread in front of him. “What do we have here?”

A more appropriate question would have been what _didn’t_ they have there. Trevor had gone with Louis and Niall to the liquor store to chaperone their purchases but it turns out he is just as bad as the rest of them. The counter is littered with bottles of different sizes and liquids. Vodka, rum, and a few odd bottles of whiskey are just a portion of what they bought. They also managed to scrounge up six packs of several different brands of beer, a few different types of wine coolers, and multiple bottles of mixers: sodas, juices, and seltzer.

“I wasn’t aware we were having a rave,” Liam says pointedly in Trevor’s direction.

Trevor looks sheepish for only a few seconds before he breaks into a huge grin. “They were on sale, babe,” he replies, as though that justifies the potential for alcohol poisoning currently setting up shop on their kitchen counter.

“Did you fill the tub with ice?” Louis asks, glancing down the hall as though he could see the tub from his location.

“Yes,” Liam says dejectedly. “You’re fucking welcome. You know how many bags it took?”

“I can guess,” Louis replies, shooting him a wink. “C’mon, let’s get these on ice.”

It’s a group effort to lug all of the beer and wine coolers into the bathroom, tugging on them until they’re free from their cardboard boxes and setting them into the ice to cool. Trevor and Liam go back into the kitchen to set up the counter with the hard liquor, mixers, and Solo cups. Niall appoints himself Chairman of the Snacks and goes to unpack the crisps and snacks they’d gotten from the shop the day before. That leaves Harry and Louis.

“So,” Harry begins as they step out of the bathroom into the hallway.

“So,” Louis replies, grinning back at Harry wolfishly.

Harry stifles a laugh and gives Louis a onceover. “Are you wearing that, then? Nike Spring Collection, circa 2008?”

Louis gives a mock-offended gasp and looks down at his clothes, the battered joggers that are frayed at the bottom and the soft grey cotton shirt with a hole along the neckline. “Are you saying I’m not party appropriate, Harold?”

Harry laughs. “It crossed my mind.”

Louis narrows his eyes and sticks his tongue out. “I was going to put on something impressive, but I think I’ll keep this on just to prove you wrong.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Harry shoots back, smug smiling stretching his lips and his eyes lighting up with mirth. “You’re the vainest person I know. Your hair alone will drive you crazy.”

As if on cue, Louis stops fixing his fringe and drops his hand back to his side. He narrows his eyes at Harry again. “You’re going to regret that, Curly.”

Harry laughs again and sidesteps Louis to head to his bedroom to get ready. “I’m hoping so,” he says, then winks. He shuts the door behind him, but not before he sees Louis staring back at him with dark eyes and his mouth slightly agape.

\----

The party is, naturally, a success. Harry is pretty sure Niall invited every single person he so much has said hello to in his two and a half years at Leeds. It’s a mixture of all their friends, their worlds colliding: Louis’ friends from football doing shots with students in Liam and Trevor’s module, Harry’s English department classmates dancing under a makeshift disco ball with some of Niall’s friends who do the technical equipment for the theater department. The flat is probably going to be a disaster in the morning, but it seems like everyone is having a good time.

Harry is also very, very drunk.

He passed tipsy about two hours ago and modestly drunk about a half hour ago. He’s still upright, but that is probably due to the fact that Liam made him eat a roll to help soak up some of the alcohol in his system. Liam is such a good friend.

If Harry was more emotionally mature, he’d be able to admit that at least a few of his drinks so far have been because of Louis. But Harry isn’t emotionally mature right now, so he doesn’t have to admit a goddamn thing.

The trouble is that Louis is quite literally the life of the party, and Harry has had to exercise some extreme willpower over the last few hours to stop himself from staring. Or marching right over and kissing him in front of everyone. It’s the reason for Harry drinking a few beers. And an odd concoction of juices and rum that Niall made. And then another beer. And then a shot of whipped cream vodka. He vaguely remembers the “beer before liquor, never sicker” rule, but with Louis sashaying around the flat like he owns it, Harry isn’t quite sure he cares about his impending hangover from hell.

Harry tries to remember what, exactly, triggered that first beer. He thinks it might have been Louis emerging from his bedroom right before their friends started arriving, and Harry had almost choked on a crisp.

Mr. I-Think-I’ll-Keep-This-On-Just-to-Prove-You-Wrong fucking lied about not changing because the outfit he has on had Harry seriously considering marching right back into his bedroom to jerk off.

Just like Harry predicted, Louis fixed his hair. It’s swept to the side across his forehead, looking soft and cozy. But that’s about the only cozy thing about his outfit. Louis pulled on a pair of his black Vans and contrasted them with a pair of neon green socks. On his legs are what are potentially the tightest pair of jeggings ever created. Seriously, Harry isn’t sure how he managed to get them on. They hug every curve and cling to the meat of his thighs, a slightly noticeable bulge in his groin that Louis adjusts right in front of him. He has on a black tank top that’s loose around his small waist but that shows off his biceps - and the tattoos that litter his arms. The neckline is just low enough for Harry to see the top of the tattoo that stretches across his collarbone.

Harry knew immediately that he was seriously fucked.

Ultimately, that’s probably what started Harry’s downward spiral into an alcohol-induced state of absolutely zero inhibitions.

He actually hasn’t been around Louis much all night, and to Harry’s fuzzy brain, that just won’t do. In fact, it seems like Louis has been hanging around everyone _but_ him. He watched Louis do shots with Joe and a few other lads from his rec football team. He knew at one point Louis had gone out onto their tiny deck with Niall and Trevor to have a blunt. Louis had also pulled one of Harry’s friends from his Composition class to the dancefloor, shimmying back and forth with her to a mashup Niall had done of I Wanna Sex You Up and No Diggity. Harry couldn’t help but smile as he watched Laura giggle hysterically as Louis had play bumped and grinded against her.

He’s jealous, is the thing. It seems like everyone is getting Louis’ attention but him. Louis hadn’t even really reacted to Harry’s outfit, the one he’d spent a lot of time deliberating over trying to make sure Louis wouldn’t take his eyes off him. He’d pulled on some tight black jeans and a black and pink silk shirt, leaving most of the buttons undone. He’d tugged on his curls until they were especially bouncy because Louis had said he’d liked his curls. But Louis had just given him an appreciative glance before moving on.

Harry’s outfit had failed and now Louis has barely looked at him all night. It’s nearing midnight when Harry finally snaps.

He fights his way through the throng of people in the flat to find Joe. He finds him in the kitchen mixing a drink and, bless, his brother is with him.

“Joe! Tom!” Harry shouts over the music and voices. “I need your help!”

Tonight was actually the first time Harry had met Joe’s brother and he was right, they really do look nothing alike. There’s a faint resemblance in their hair color and height but other than that, they could be strangers. Joe stops pouring his drink and looks up at Harry. He widens his eyes, probably slightly alarmed at how manic Harry looks right now, but Joe’s eyes are glazed too, so he isn’t too worried.

“Y’alright, Harry?” Joe asks, setting down the bottle of cranberry juice he’d been holding.

“I need your help,” Harry repeats again. He glances around to make sure no one else is listening, though that’s a bit ridiculous considering the party going on around them. He leans in across the counter, trying to focus his attention on the two boys in front of him. “Louis won’t come anywhere near me.”

Tom laughs, craning his neck around to look at the people in the flat. He’s faring a bit better than Joe is, his eyes mostly clear and his cheeks only slightly pink. “I don’t even see him anywhere.”

“Exactly!” Harry exclaims. “He’s just… He’s so _infuriating_.”

“You like Tommo?” Joe asks, like his brain is finally starting to get in gear again. “Seriously?”

Harry doesn’t answer, just shakes his head like he’s got water in his hair and says again, “I need to get his attention.”

Tom reaches across his brother to grab the bottle of Cuervo that has been, mostly, untouched all night. He holds it up to the light and shakes the light amber liquid around. Then, he gives Harry a smirk and says, “I have an idea.”

\----

If Harry was a bit more sober, he’d maybe question the morality of having Louis’ ex-boyfriend help him try to get his attention. But, Harry isn’t sober, and he’s bordering on desperate, so he goes with it.

Within just a few minutes, the kitchen table is completely cleared off and the bottle of tequila is placed carefully on the edge, a salt shaker and a bowl of hastily cut limes next to it. Tom has also managed to get a small crowd of people into the kitchen around the table, all lining up to partake in a party staple: body shots.

Tom declares he wants to go first and grabs Harry’s wrist, tugging him over to the table and more or less pushing him down on top of it. The crowd murmurs excitedly as Harry lays back, head propped up by a dishtowel someone had the foresight to lay down. From his vantage point, Harry can’t really see who is surrounding him. He sees Tom overhead, pouring a shot of tequila into a glass and grabbing the salt shaker. Tom keeps glancing around, though, as though he’s looking for something.

“He’s not even here!” Harry hisses, starting to feel awkward and on display.

“Trust me,” Tom replies, grinning down at him. “I’m going to pour the salt on you. Where do you want it?”

Harry huffs a breath and closes his eyes. “I don’t care,” he says dejectedly, blinking his eyes open. “My neck, I guess.”

“Okay,” Tom says. “Can you put this in your mouth?” He holds up a lime wedge for Harry to see.

“Yeah,” Harry replies and takes the lime from Tom, holding it to his lips while Tom gets ready.

“Trust me,” Tom says, peering down again, his voice audible only to Harry.

Harry nods and places the lime into this mouth, lips stretching around the fruit as he breathes through his nose. The next thing he sees is Tom pulling at the collar of his shirt that had slipped over his neck. He feels more than sees Tom lean down over him, breath hot against his neck. His skin tickles where he feels Tom’s tongue, warm and wet, run a stripe along his neck. It’s probably the least sexy thing on the planet, but Tom goes slow as he licks and then pours a healthy helping of salt along Harry’s wet skin. In the next second, Tom is reaching for the shot glass.

“Okay!” Harry hears Joe call out. “On three. One, two, three!”

Harry stifles a giggle as Tom laps up the salt from his neck again and then quickly downs the shot. He leans over Harry again, cheeks burning as he bites into the flesh of the fruit and tugs the lime from Harry’s mouth. A bit of the juice dribbles into Harry’s mouth and he laughs, wiping across his lips quickly as Tom backs up and coughs up the bitterness of the shot.

Tom turns to him and grins. He stage-whispers, “You owe me,” before reaching for his beer and backing away.

Harry shakes his head and begins to sit up, but he’s prevented by a hand on his abdomen appearing from out of nowhere and pressing him back to the table. Harry looks up, eyes wide, and locks eyes with the person preventing his escape.

“My turn,” Louis says, voice low and eyes blown wide and dark as he stares down at Harry on the table.

Harry gulps, voice suddenly dry as he stares back up at Louis. His brain short-circuits, all the alcohol from earlier swishing around and making his thoughts completely incoherent. All he can register is Louis leaning over him and looking up and down his body. His eyes settle on the patch of slightly-red skin where the salt was, then move down his chest and rest on Harry’s abdomen where his shirt ran up a little exposing his belly.

“I think I want this off the laurels,” Louis says out loud, though no one is really paying him much attention, mostly impatient to get their own turn. “How about it, Curly?”

Harry can’t talk. He can barely _think_ , but he somehow registers Louis’ question because he feels his head nodding. He really _really_ can’t think when he sees Louis’ hands move up his chest, settling on his shirt at the first closed button. He twists his neck to watch Louis slowly, carefully begin to unbutton the rest of his shirt. Louis is meticulous, fingernails sliding into the holes and tugging the buttons free until Harry’s shirt billows the rest of the way open to free his chest and abdomen.

“And I think I want the salt on your chest, Harold,” Louis says conversationally.

Harry just nods again, skin on fire where he can feel the heat from Louis’ body warming his own but unbearably cool when the air from around them hits his exposed nipples and stomach. He doesn’t breathe as Louis reaches for the salt shaker and leans over him. Up close, Louis’ eyes are still gorgeously blue, but instead of the bright sky blue Harry is used to seeing, they’re dark. Dark like the sea at night, serious and a little bit dangerous. They’re the last thing Harry sees before Louis leans all the way in and settles his mouth on Harry’s sternum.

It takes every ounce of will Harry has not to arch up into Louis’ touch, desperate to feel more of Louis’ mouth on him. Louis licks a large patch of skin on Harry’s chest and drags his lips over the wet skin, letting saliva dribble over the spot. Harry trains his eyes on the ceiling and tries to keep his expression blank, but he can’t imagine how anyone around them can’t see his thoughts written all over his face.

After a moment, Louis lifts his lips and raises up just a bit, enough so he can pour salt over the wet patch he just made on Harry’s chest. Harry feels the granules land on his skin, scratchy and itchy. He doesn’t get a chance to dwell on it entirely, though, because Louis raises himself the rest of the way up and reaches for the bottle of tequila.

“Still time to back out, Curly,” Louis says. He grins down at him but Harry can see a bit of seriousness set in his eyes. He’s giving Harry a chance to stop this, making sure he’s okay with it.

Harry has never been more okay with anything in his entire life.

He whispers back, “I want you to.”

That is, apparently, all the permission Louis needs. He picks up a lime wedge and carefully places it in Harry’s mouth, Harry opening his lips wide to allow it. He feels the faintest brush of Louis’ fingers on his lips. Louis looks down and runs a hand across Harry’s belly, hands smoothing across his skin and dragging through the patch of light hair Harry has that trails down into his jeans. Louis takes his time running his fingertips over the laurels that Harry has inked into his abdomen. Harry’s skin feels hot, too tight for his body, anticipation thrumming in his blood while Louis just looks down at him, drinks in his body with intent. Finally, Louis dips the bottle and begins to pour.

The tequila is cold on Harry’s overheated skin and he gasps when it first makes contact. Louis pours the tequila slowly, not letting too much spill over Harry’s sides onto the table. It feels like hours before Louis tips the neck of the bottle back, a large pool of liquid settled on Harry’s belly. It’s pooled in his belly button and almost down to the waistband of his jeans. Harry barely has time to think before Louis in his line of vision again, his head dipped down to lap at the salt he’d poured on his chest. He licks at it slowly, careful to get every tiny grain. Harry expects him to lift his head up again and move down to his stomach. His heart pounds deep in his chest when instead of that, Louis trails his tongue down the rest of Harry’s chest. He licks down between his pecs and over his extra nipples and through the large butterfly tattooed onto his stomach. Down, down, down he drags his tongue, leaving a wet trail behind him that cools instantly in the cold air.

Finally, Louis reaches the tequila resting in Harry’s abdomen. Harry wants to reach out, wants to tangle his hands in Louis’ hair and keep his head there, keep his mouth there, hot and wet and insistent on his skin as he drinks up the tequila. He wants to keep Louis’ mouth on him forever. But he can’t do that. All he can do is breathe through it, breathe through the tickling sensation and warm, wet heat overpowering his whole body. The lime makes it difficult, makes Harry feel like he’s gagging and he feels his jeans begin to feel too tight, too warm, his body responding to the feel of Louis mouth drinking in the tequila, drinking _Harry_ in.

Louis licks up the tequila in Harry’s belly button, licks his way across his belly to both sides where tequila spilled over in little trails onto the table. Harry feels Louis’ teeth brush his sensitive skin, the slightest nibble of his flesh as Louis moves dangerously close to his waistband. He brushes his tongue slightly beneath the waistband, so fast Harry isn’t sure he imagines it, but Harry feels himself harden just a bit more feeling Louis so close.

Once all the tequila has been lapped up, damp skin drying in the cool air, Louis finally raises himself up and leans across Harry again. Harry’s vision blurs, eyes trying to focus as he sees Louis lean in and his mouth inch closer. Louis brushes his nose with Harry’s as he bites into the lime, mouth open wide to take it in. He presses his top lip to Harry’s for a brief second, dragging them together before he pulls away with the lime in his mouth. Harry gasps out, fingers digging into the side of the table, and barely hears the hoots and cheers coming from the crowd of people surrounding them.

A hand grabs his shoulder and Harry looks over to see Trevor hovering next to him, helping him up. Now upright, Harry’s mind starts to clear a little and he can begin to take in the rest of of his surroundings. His skin feels clammy and damp, already missing the warmth of Louis’ mouth. He knows his eyes are glassy and his lips are red from holding onto the lime. Trevor helps him hop down from the table, a girl quickly climbing on to take his place. Louis has finished off the lime, his lips wet and pink from the juice, and Harry doesn’t waste any time.

“Sorry,” he says, turning back around and looking at the girl. “You need to wait a moment.”

The girl gives him a confused look. “Excuse me?”

“I’m going next,” he declares, fixing her with what he hopes is a serious look but is probably diminished by how smashed he is.

“You just went!” she protests.

“Not for that,” he says, and he turns around. Louis is staring at him wide-eyed, the remains of the lime still pinched in his hand. He gives Trevor a brief panicked look but Harry just strides over and grabs his wrist. “Come on, Tommo. Your turn.”

Louis doesn’t protest, though his cheeks are on fire. He just lets Harry tug him back to the table. The girl is still sitting half on top of it, but when she sees Harry return with Louis, she hops off with a pout. Harry gently pushes Louis against the table, pressing down on his chest lightly to get him to lay down.

“Down,” Harry commands, and he doesn’t know how his voice is so clear, but it feels gritty and manic as he reaches for the salt and a lime.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Louis replies, though he leans back and rests his neck against the dishtowel.

Harry ignores him and runs his eyes over Louis’ body. His hips look inviting, and Harry knows there’s a hint of softness around Louis’ stomach that he would love to get his mouth on. But then his eyes trail up to Louis’ chest and his neck on display, the collar of his tank pulled down and exposing his collarbone. Perfect.

Harry doesn’t warn Louis before he grabs the bottle of tequila in his free hand and tilts it, a slow stream of liquid pouring out into the dip of Louis’ collarbone. Louis hisses at the chill, a muttered _fuck_ the only thing Harry hears around the din of the party. He pours a healthy serving, probably more than a shot but Louis’ collarbones are so _deep_ and it’s a sin if he doesn’t take advantage of it. He sets the bottle next to him and glances up at Louis.

“Don’t move,” he says quietly, and he waits for Louis’ nod before he raises up the bottom of Louis’ tank to bring his stomach into view.

Harry blows a breath over Louis’ skin before settling his mouth over his belly, over the firm muscles of his stomach and the soft skin that feels like it stretches for miles. He laps at the skin until he’s happy he’s got it nice and red, then tilts the salt still in his hand over it. Unlike Louis, he doesn’t waste any time before he dips his mouth again and licks it all up, grains sticking to his lips and bitter on his tongue.

When he glances up from his position on Louis’ stomach, eyes shaded by his eyelashes, he can feel the vibrations from Louis’ groan in his mouth. He lifts his lips and lets a string of saliva stretch between Louis’ belly and his mouth. He licks it from his lips and then raises himself back to Louis’ chest.

He holds out the lime he’s still holding. “Open up,” he says. Instead of listening to him though, Louis raises a hand from his side and grabs hold of Harry’s wrist. He directs his hand down to his mouth, fingers over the back of Harry’s hand as he places the lime between his own lips, using Harry’s fingers to do it.

Once the lime is in place, Harry takes a second to appreciate Louis’ perfect, pink lips stretched around the fruit before he lowers his head and begins to drink up the tequila. His lips and tongue burn a bit, the tequila strong and salty on his tongue, but he continues to lap up the tequila hungrily. He keeps going even when he hits Louis’ skin, the tequila long gone and just the taste of Louis left, something musky and maybe a bit fruity from his body wash. He runs his tongue along the letters of Louis’ tattoo, following the script. _It Is What It Is._ He licks up every drop, letting his teeth drag a bit as he pulls back, pinching just a bit of skin before he lifts up completely. He doesn't think as he hovers over Louis’ face and bites into the lime, tugging it free from Louis’ mouth. The juice explodes across his tongue and Harry pulls it out almost immediately, breath ragged and strained.

He ignores the cheers he gets in response to the show, his friends clapping him on the back and laughing. He just holds out a hand to Louis, who takes it and sits up, strong stomach muscles tensing. Harry doesn’t let go of his hand as he tugs Louis from the table and through the crowd, finally letting the other partygoers have at it. He tugs him through the living room to the door to the deck. He thinks he sees Niall watching them from a corner of the living room, Solo cup to his mouth and a smug look on his face. Harry ignores him and keeps going until they get to the door and pulls it open. It’s quiet outside and Harry doesn’t want to hear the party, the music and laughter and voices too much sensory overload for his foggy brain to process. Louis just follows along until they’re safely outside and the door is shut behind them.

An ash tray is settled on the railing and a few beers bottles line the floor. Harry takes a deep breath in, cold November air piercing his lungs and clearing his head. Beside him, he hears Louis take a similar deep breath before he hears light laughter. He turns to look at Louis, who in turn is looking up at the sky, and feels himself smiling as well.

“Well that was interesting,” Louis says, voice low and crackly.

Harry pauses. After taking a second to appreciate Louis’ profile, his jawline in the moonlight and the way the light softens his skin, he says, “It was.”

“Think people will be talking about that for a while,” Louis goes on, finally looking at Harry with soft, fond eyes and an even softer smile.

“I don’t care,” Harry says, a giggle in his throat from both embarrassment and most likely the alcohol.

“Me neither,” Louis replies. “It was...fun. Nice.”

“Yeah, it was,” Harry agrees. He wants to touch. He wants to reach out and run his fingers over Louis’ jawline, wants to place his mouth back on his skin. Now that he’s had it, he wants it again, wants it _more_. Wants to taste Louis again. “I want to taste you again.”

Louis barks a laugh and claps a hand over his mouth, eyes shining and glassy and glowing blue even in the darkness. “You’re drunk.”

“So are you!” Harry fires back, though he laughs himself. Fuck, he has no filter when he’s wasted.

“I am,” Louis confirms, nodding his head. “Which is why I think we need to slow down.”

“I think that’s a terrible idea,” Harry replies, feeling his tone drift into whining territory. He’s never felt braver, never felt more in tune with what his mind and body want. He wants Louis.

Louis just shakes his head and reaches out a hand. Harry holds his breath, thinking maybe _maybe_ Louis might pull him in, but instead Louis just tugs Harry’s still-open shirt across his chest. And oh, right, it's almost freezing out and his shirt is still unbuttoned.

“I think we need to talk about this when we’re a bit more sober,” Louis says quietly. He looks up and fixes Harry with a toothy grin, eyes still fond and filled with amusement. “When there isn’t a shit ton of people still filling our flat.”

That sounds like the exact _opposite_ of what they should be doing, but Louis is already pulling his hand back. When he sees the pout that Harry can feel on his face, he laughs again and nudges Harry’s shoulder with a fist. “C’mon, Curly. No need to pout. I’m just saying now isn’t the best time.”

Objectively, Harry knows Louis is right. He’s been drunk for hours, and he’s not sure about Louis but he figures that Louis isn’t too far behind. His head is clearer but by no means totally focused, and he wants to remember this. Whatever _this_ is. He doesn’t want it impeded by a fuzzy brain, and he doesn’t want his decisions to be made by alcohol.

Slowly, he nods and lets out a breath, his breath fogging up in the cold air in front of him and then drifting away on the wind. “Alright,” he agrees.

“Alright,” Louis nods himself. Then he glances back into the flat, the party still going strong. “Let’s go see if we can get Liam drunk enough to sing showtunes.”

Harry takes a deep breath, takes in Louis’ playful smile and windblown hair and pink lips, and thinks yeah, he can wait for _this_.

“Let’s do it,” he replies, and follows Louis back into the flat.

After all, they are the dream team.

\----

Louis steps out of the bathroom after a much-needed relaxing shower, towel hanging low on his hips, steam creating a cloud behind him and water droplets still dropping down his reddened chest.

He hears a door slam shut and looks up at the source of the noise. It’s Harry, door shut behind him, dressed warmly with his peacoat and a bag thrown over his shoulder.

“No,” Harry says loudly as he gapes openly at Louis.

“Excuse me?” Louis cocks his head to the side. What is he on about? His green eyes are kind of wild.

“I have to go.” Harry takes a small step forward before stopping, as if realizing he’d have to step near Louis in order to get past him to leave. He looks up muttering to himself something that sounds very similar to “Oh my God, I can’t do this right now”.

“What is going on right now?” Louis asks. He almost wants to laugh at Harry’s clearly manic state.

“I need you to go in your room so I can leave,” Harry states, but then seems to distracted. His eyes trail over Louis’ body, slowly, torturously. “Christ, I could lick you.”

Louis cocks his hip out, vaguely aware of the towel dropping lower, probably showing a little too much skin.

Harry’s eyes follow greedily.

“Like you did the other night?” Louis steps forward.

  
Harry takes a step back, making a frustrated sound. “I have to be at a meeting in literally fifteen minutes.”

“Curly,” Louis starts.

“No, no, no,” Harry waves a finger to him. “You are not calling me Curly like that and you are not talking about our body shots when I literally have to leave. Please,” Harry says wildly, “please go in your room. I have to leave.”

“Why can’t you just walk around me?” Louis asks coyly.

“Louis,” Harry shrieks. “You’re literally glistening. Please. Just go in your room.”

Louis sighs. Harry's back is tense and he hasn’t moved an inch forward.

“Fine,” Louis makes a move towards his door, stopping just inside the doorway. He waits until he hears Harry’s feet start up before he drops his towel completely.

Harry’s frustrated groan and slam of the front door is totally worth it.

\----

Patience is shit. His year twos had been a right riot in the morning, starting a fight numerous times over glue sticks (because apparently bottles of glue were just not as cool) and then one kid almost cut another with scissors accidentally. It’s basically been a day, and Louis is so glad he’s only got two more days of student teaching because he’s tired. He’s barely had a second to himself and not dedicated to these children and he just wants dinner and a nap that maybe lasts the next ten years.

He walks into the flat, heading straight to the kitchen to find that flier from the Chinese food place that Niall always orders from. He’s in the middle of dialling when he feels Harry press up against his back and snatch the flier away from him.

Oh, how he missed him.

“Lou, honestly? Takeout again?”

Louis groans, turning to face Harry. “I haven’t had takeout that much,” he says indignantly.

Harry opens the refrigerator to point out four different takeaway containers that had leftovers from Louis.

Then, with a very smug look on his face he trails back to the bin, where Louis can spot a few more.

Harry raises his eyebrows expectantly as the lid to the bin shuts.

Louis scoffs. “So, like. I’ve had a bit of takeaway lately.”

Harry gives him an unimpressed look, then waves his hand towards the table. “Sit down and tell me about your day. The boys are out, I’m starving, and I think you deserve a home cooked meal. How does stir fry sound?”

It all sounds amazing, and not just the food, so Louis sits. He tells Harry all about his day and the kids and every crazy thing that they said. Harry tells him about his internship and his finals and the cat video that Gemma sent him at lunch. He even lets Louis help him cut vegetables while he cuts the meat, not even getting mad when Louis cuts the peppers a little too big. In fact, he giggles when a seed flies up and hits Louis in the face. It’s all very domestic. Soon enough, the smell of cooking meat and vegetables permeates the air in the kitchen and Louis is given an unobstructed view of Harry’s back (and other things) as Harry stands at the stove, wooden spoon poised over the wok (when did they get a wok?) while their dinner cooks.

It’s not until they’re eating does Louis notice the slight pinch in Harry shoulders and the way he keeps repeating his final schedule like it’s a religious chant.

“Curly, you do know that you look like you’re about to have a conniption right?”

Harry lifts his head up, eyes wide. “No, I don’t.”

Louis stares at him. “Yes you do. You’ve mentioned your Medieval Literature final and the requirements for it four times in the last 10 minutes.You need to relax. Maybe take a breath or two. Don’t you yoga people do special breathing or summat?”

Harry laughs, but it’s a little strained. “Are you suggesting I do my yoga breathing right now?”

Louis quirks an eyebrow. “I’m not quite sure what that is mate. Just, hold on,” Louis pushes away his chair quickly and rushes to his room.

He shuffles around the room a bit trying to remember where he fucking put it, before zeroing in on his bedside drawer. Bingo.

Louis walks back into the kitchen and drops the small bag on the table, making a loud thud that makes Harry jump, mid-clean up.

Harry looks at the bag then back up at him.

Louis smiles wickedly. “I know right? I’m a big bad drug dealer, aren’t I?”

That startles a laugh out of Harry.

“Louis, I need to clean up and study. I can’t just get high with you right now,” Harry shakes his head as he tries to clear the table, shoulders even more tense.

Louis steps closer to Harry, grabbing the plates out of his hands and putting them back on the table.

“Come on, Curly,” he takes Harry’s hand. “You need to relax and what’s one blunt going to do? Kill ya?”

Louis tugs on his hand, and Harry sighs, a small smile on his face, as he lets himself be led to the living room.

“Now the key, Curly, to getting high, because I’m vaguely sure you’ve probably never been properly high before, is that you have to watch shit television while you do it. Maybe even one of those foreign films you’re always yammering about. That could be fun.”

Harry squawks. “I talked about a French film once, Louis.”

Louis just waves a hand and situates himself on the couch, turning on the TV. He barely has time to peruse the channels before he lands on a late night re-airing of Hollyoaks and drops the remote to the couch. “Perfect,” he says and laughs. “Nothing like getting high to soap operas.”

Harry sits besides him, and Louis can feel Harry’s eyes on him as he leans forward to the coffee table and opens his little bag of weed. Next to it, he lays out the paper. He glances at Harry casually as he begins to scoop the pot onto the paper and starts to roll it up. He brings it to his mouth to lick the edge to seal it closed and the end result is a tight little cylinder that Louis holds between his thumb and forefinger as he flicks his lighter to light one end.

“‘m serious though. Is this okay? Have you ever smoked before?” Louis looks up at Harry, gauging his reaction, a bit of smoke billowing from the edge of the joint up into his face.

Harry looks at him a little curiously, something soft in his eyes, before nodding. “Once.”

Louis nods. “Just making sure, I’m not forcing you into something you don’t want.”

Harry smiles, dimples popping out on full display, seemingly pleased. He shakes his head a bit. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Louis winks before taking a drag. He passes the joint to Harry, who takes it easily, before putting it to his lips. Louis just watches as he inhales, cheeks hollowing in just the right way, he almost stops breathing, until Harry’s face scrunches up and he releases a set of horrid coughs that have Louis putting his hand on his back.

Louis giggles at Harry’s pouting lip after he’s done coughing. “That was even worse than I remember it. Smoking is not my strong suit.”

“Clearly,” Louis takes the joint from his hands. “Didn’t we just talk about breathing and yoga and all that shit?”

“I just can’t ever get it without hacking up a lung,” Harry shrugs.

“I have an idea,” Louis starts slowly. He can feel his heart hammering in his chest, blood pumping in his ears and drowning out everything but the blazing green eyes in front of him. “But you have to trust me.”

Harry nods. “Okay.”

Louis brings the joint to his lips and takes a drag, holding the smoke in his mouth, eyes locked on Harry’s. He can see Harry’s eyes light up with recognition, his shallow breathing as he leans forward. When he’s within touching distance, he ghosts his hands over Harry’s arms to tug him closer.

He tilts Harry’s head back slowly, hands mesmerized by every inch of Harry’s neck and face. Louis cups his face, leaning in a bit at an odd angle, before hovering his mouth right over Harry’s. Harry’s mouth opens instantly and Louis breathes out, letting the smoke go into his mouth easily.

Harry doesn’t cough once, but then again not all of the smoke went into his mouth, some of it floating up to pass over his cheeks and disappearing into the air between them.

“I think,” Louis goes to grab another hit, “it would work better, if you were a bit closer.”

He watches as Harry’s eyes darken, and he nods once. Harry slowly, ever so slowly, shifts his weight, and swings one leg over Louis’ waist, straddling him.

Louis drags in the smoke again, dizzy with the fact that Harry’s chest is pressed against his, that his bum is nestled on his dick, and that his thighs are warm and secure on his own. He feels Harry tense his thighs, trapping Louis between his legs, and he flicks his head to push his long curls off his face, staring down at Louis intently.

Louis gently settles his hands on Harry’s hips before tilting his mouth up, just as Harry lowers his mouth down.

Louis brings his mouth closer, pressing his fingertips a little tighter on Harry’s hips to make him move forward, just a little more.

  
Harry’s lips brush against his, and Louis breathes all the air in his chest out, as Harry’s drags it in greedily.

Louis presses his mouth to Harry’s to keep the air between them, but the press of his lips is too good, too much, and he drags his lips down a bit until he’s got Harry’s lower lip in his mouth.

Harry reacts immediately, closing his mouth, and kissing Louis with just the faintest of pressure.

Louis’ grip on Harry’s hips tightens, and he can feel Harry lean forward just the slightest of bit, following the lead of Louis’ hands. Louis can feel himself getting hard, unable to help himself, with Harry’s bum against him, and his entire being in every one of his senses.

Then all the heat is gone.

Louis blinks and Harry’s up, staring at him with wild eyes and flushed cheeks.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Harry squeaks out before running off. His bare feet patter against the floor and then the door to the bathroom clicks shut.

Louis runs a hand through his hair, trying to catch his breath.

Fuck.

Fuck, he got hard from the barest of press of lips. He’s not sure it really even counts as a kiss.

Louis can hear the faucet running in the bathroom. God, Harry’s probably horrified at the fact that Louis was rubbing up against him with a raging hard-on just from shotgunning.

Not to mention the fact that Harry’s only initiated when under the influence.

Louis runs a hand through his hair. He might have fucked up. He’s vaguely sure that they’ve been flirting and Harry’s interested, and they’ve definitely been sexually interested under the influence. But maybe this was too soon, maybe Harry’s just not as into it as Louis and doesn’t know how to let him down easy. Maybe he’s just horrified of the idea of Louis’ dick against his bum.

The front door of the flat opens, Niall and Liam milling in loudly, deep in conversation.

Niall stops short, nose sniffing the air and a wide grin stretching over his lips. “Who is getting high right now?”

“Uh,” Louis stands up, sheepish.

He hears the distinct opening of the bathroom door, and then the sound of Harry’s door opening and then shutting again.

Shit. Louis’ heart races and his stomach drops. He’s so fucking embarrassed and he knows his face has to be bright red. His eyes drift to the hall, to Harry’s shut door, thinking that maybe he should go explain himself, maybe ease the tension a little bit, but in the back of his mind he hears Niall’s triumphant shout at seeing Louis’ weed bag still open on the coffee table.

Louis looks back to his friends. Niall is already rolling a new joint and Liam is sitting on the floor next to him, watching him work. He wants to talk to Harry. He _needs_ to talk to Harry.

But it's pretty obvious Harry doesn't want to talk to him.

Louis is going to need at least two hits and maybe a few beers to settle his embarrassment. “Let’s go, lads. Time to get high.”

\----

It’s been three days, and Louis is starting to panic. Classes are over for now, most of the Leeds campus heading home for the holidays and only a few stragglers left. The boys themselves are heading home soon and Louis still hasn’t talked to Harry. In fact, he hasn’t had a chance to. He hasn’t seen Harry since the night of the awkward boners.

Well, his awkward boner. He’s considering calling it the ‘boner of doom’.

He’s vaguely sure that Harry is ignoring him and that it’s the end of the world.

Louis is so concerned about Harry; talking to Harry, explaining himself to Harry, apologizing profusely to Harry, cuddling Harry, kissing Harry, that he charges into the bathroom and runs into the man himself.

Harry. In the shower, headphones in, scrubbing the walls with hot pink rubber gloves, wearing nothing but yoga pants.

Louis squeals and backs up, shoulder slamming into the doorframe and poking itself on a hinge.

Harry jumps at the sound and shouts in response, dropping the bottle of bleach he’d been holding on the tub floor. One of his earbuds falls out in the process as he whirls around, hair frizzy along his forehead with perspiration and bless him, he even has on a face mask.

“Oops,” Harry squeaks.

“Hi,” Louis says shyly, bringing a hand up to rub at his shoulder blade where it’s smarting from its run-in with the door.

Harry’s eyes dart around the bathroom and he tugs his mask down to hang around his neck. “Did you, um, need to go?” He waves his hands around aimlessly, gloves reflecting the harsh overhead light and making an awful squishing sound.

“Need to go where?” Louis blurts out, not even thinking, more just staring at Harry’s thighs in the yoga pants. And his bare chest. Can’t forget that.

Harry looks like he’s barely stifling a laugh. “To the bathroom, Louis. You’re in our bathroom. Do you have to use it?”

“Oh,” Louis scratches his head. “I guess I don’t anymore. It’ll probably come back around.”

“You didn’t piss yourself, did you?” Harry asks, deadpan and Louis’ mouth drops open.

“What? No! I-”

Harry starts giggling. “I was joking, Lou.”

 _Lou_. The nickname warms Louis’ heart, fills his chest with a relief he didn’t even realize he needed. Harry must not hate him if he’s still calling him Lou. Maybe there’s hope to salvage this.

“I, um. I guess I’ll leave you to it, then,” Louis stammers out, feeling his cheeks pinken. It’s honestly the last thing he wants to do, to leave this room when he and Harry are finally talking again. But he doesn’t want to push, and he’s not sure the bathroom while Harry is still standing shirtless in the tub is the best place to have this conversation. It feels like he’s fighting with every one of his cells to leave this room as he takes a tentative step back.

“Wait,” Harry calls after a lull of silence, just as Louis is about to turn around. “Um, I’m really sorry about the other night.”

Harry’s avoiding looking at him, blush high on his cheeks. Louis can’t stand it, truly he can’t. “Look, it was my fault. I got ahead of myself and I’m sorry. It’s just, you know, a natural reaction to someone like you.”

Harry’s eyes widen, and that probably should be Louis’ first cue to stop talking.

“I mean, I should have known it would happen, but I mean, still. I’m sorry and it was embarrassing, I know. I would have jumped off too.”

“Wait,” Harry stares at Louis. “I jumped off of you because I got a boner.”

Louis narrows his eyes. “No you jumped off of me because _I_ got a boner.”

It’s completely silent, save a slow _drip drip_ from the faucet. Louis stares at Harry’s face, looking for any indication that he might be lying to make him feel better, but he can find none. All he sees is complete honesty, a little embarrassment, and maybe some nerves if Harry biting his lower lip is anything to go by.

Harry looks confused as he shakes his head slowly. “No, that wasn’t it.”

Clarity starts to blossom in Louis’ brain. “I thought when you ran off you could, like, feel it and thought it was too much or something. And I wasn’t sure, because up to now every time it seems like we’re getting somewhere we’ve both been pretty smashed, so I thought you might not want it if you were sober.”

“Louis, no!” Harry hastens to cut in. “It wasn’t that. It was _definitely_ not that. I’m glad we’ve waited until now. I want to _remember_ it. I just… I was embarrassed. I thought you’d be freaked out, and so _I_ freaked out, and I ran off and.” He shrugs. “Yeah,” he finishes dejectedly. Harry shakes his head again but the beginnings of a smile are twisting at his lips.

Louis lets out a breathy laugh, rolling his eyes to the ceiling as if that will have all the answers for him. “Are you telling me,” Louis starts, “that we both were in fact turned on by shotgunning and freaked out because of our own mutual boners?” He wants to make sure that there are no misunderstandings here.

Harry laughs, bright and loud, before nodding, eyes sparkling. “Yes. It seems so, Lou.”

Louis wants to punch himself in the face. He scoffs, “Well that was fucking stupid.”

Harry cackles out a laugh so loud he has to cover his mouth, horrified at the way it bounces off the tile and rings out through the bathroom. He looks sheepish as he says, “I have no idea where that noise came from.”

They both dissolve into a fit of laughter. It subsides eventually, trailing off into a lull of staring.

“So, are you going to kiss me then, Curly?”

Harry smiles, dimples popping out, before dropping all of his cleaning supplies and steps his gigantic gangly legs out of the tub.

Louis takes a step forward, smiling.

Harry grabs a hold of Louis’ waist with one arm, letting the other hold onto his cheek. Harry’s eyes are mischievous as he hovers right over Louis’ mouth, before the earth goes sideways, and Louis realizes Harry’s dipped him, right there in the bathroom.

“Harry,” Louis rolls his eyes.

“I’m just kidding,” Harry laughs, before bringing him upright. Louis is about to make another remark, maybe tease him about the face mask that’s dangling between them, when Harry closes the space between them and all thoughts fly out of Louis’ head.

Louis has had a lot of time to think about this, to think about kissing Harry and what it would feel like to be crowded up against him and feel his lips and his body heat and his skin. But no amount of thinking could have prepared Louis for this. There was never going to be enough preparation for the way Louis feels with Harry pressed up against his front, big hands on his cheek and on his hip, for how big and green Harry’s eyes are up close right before he leans in, for the odd mixture of bleach and cinnamon Louis can smell on his skin, or for the way Harry’s lips press against his and instantly feel like they were made to fit there. Like _they_ were made to fit.

Harry is giggling too much to make a grand show of kissing, his eyes still half-open as he keeps Louis’ head positioned in front of his as he moves their lips together. But Louis feels warm from the tips of his toes all through his body, feels safe and secure with Harry tugging him in close and keeping him there. Louis has never been so grateful for his past drunk selves to have had the foresight to wait to do this until they were both sober, because he wants to remember every fucking second of this. Their first kiss, because what happened the other night on the couch really doesn’t count. He wants to remember every bit of feeling coursing through his body like wildfire right now, crowded up against Harry in their tiny bathroom.

“m glad I can remember this,” Louis murmurs as he tugs his mouth away barely half an inch, his lips hovering over Harry’s so close it’s like he can still feel them.

“Me too,” Harry kisses him back, soft and lingering, as if he had read Louis’ mind, and was trying to catalog every detail in order to never forget.

Louis can only take the press of Harry’s lips, persistent and sweet for so long before he wants more. More press, more close, more of everything. He’s gotten Harry in bits and pieces and he just...wants.

“While this has been sweet, Curly,” Louis is swift to run his hand up Harry’s back and to the back of Harry’s neck where he can feel himself tugging on Harry’s hair. Harry’s mouth drops open in a gasp that Louis swallows up, pressing his mouth harder, and turning Harry around so Harry’s back is pressed to the door, Louis crowding him.

Except Louis forgot to shut the door. And they both tumble to the floor in a heap of shrieks and flailing limbs.

“Sexy,” Harry smirks, lifting his head slightly off the ground, and rubbing the tender spot where he hit it.

Louis buries his head into Harry’s chest and grumbles, “It would have been very sexy.”

Harry starts giggling all over again, his laughter shaking Louis’ head and rumbling in his chest. His still-bare chest, which Louis is now just getting a second to fully appreciate, now that he’s touching it. He lifts his head and glances up at Harry, smiling himself but still feeling so embarrassed at his lack of moves.

“Oops,” he says, a smirk overtaking his lips as he raises himself up on his side, propping up his body with an arm.

Harry, still on his back, gazes up at Louis with fond eyes and his own smile. “Hi.”

“Well this isn’t a door, but I guess it will do,” Louis whispers, rearranging his body so he’s hovering over Harry, head suspended and hanging over Harry’s as he slowly leans down.

He doesn’t kiss him right away, just looks down at him and smiles, wanting to see how Harry responds. Harry’s eyes widen and his breath catches and then Louis barely has a second to take a breath before Harry reaches out and tugs Louis in by the back of the neck, crushing their lips together.

It’s bruising and satisfying and Louis licks his way into Harry’s mouth immediately, memorizing every hitch of breath, every moan that comes from Harry as he drags his fingers across Harry’s arms and chest.

His fingers graze over one of the extra nipples, making Harry gasp. “Who would have thought the extra nips would be so sensitive?” Louis teases, scraping a nail over them.

“Lou,” Harry arches into the touch ever so slightly. “Of course they’re sensitive.”

“More to play with then, right babe?” Louis runs his tongue over Harry’s bottom lip, before kissing him again.

Harry’s hands reach around to grab at Louis’ bum, taking two big handfuls. “Plenty to play with here.”

“Oi!” Louis starts to retaliate, but Harry silences him with another kiss, squeezing his ass so tight that Louis feels faint. It’s very hot in their flat. He isn’t really aware of moving his body so that he’s kind of straddling one of Harry’s legs, or how he’s started to grind almost imperceptibly against Harry now that Harry’s got a death grip on his head and is scraping his nails along Louis’ scalp, stealing his breath from his mouth and pulling him _closer closer closer_.

Harry’s hands drop from Louis’ hair mid-kiss, before wrapping themselves around Louis’ thigh’s rearranging Louis so that - _yes, fuck, yes_ \- Louis is sitting securely on his hips. He can feel Harry against him, hard and completely unashamed, as he moves his hips right back in response to Louis.

Louis takes Harry’s hands in his, and is about to move them above his head, pin them down on the floor, when he hears it.

  
A loud moan cuts through the air and it’s not his.

Or Harry’s.

The next moment, there is a loud _thump_ against the door to their flat, and both Harry and Louis freeze in their spots, heads jerking simultaneously to stare at the door.

“What the…” Louis starts to say but before he can finish, the door to the flat swings open and Liam and Trevor all but fall inside, attached at seemingly every point and totally unaware of their surroundings.

“Oi, Oi!” Louis slams his hands on the floor next to Harry, as he starts to see Trevor make a move to remove Liam’s shirt.

Liam and Trevor turn to the source of the noise, eyes wide.

Everyone stills.

  
Louis really should have gotten up _before_ he interrupted.

Everyone jumps apart, Louis and Harry moving to their feet much too fast, almost dizzy with it.

“You-” Liam starts.

“No, no, my boy Leemo. You almost defiled my eyes. You need to go to your room right now,” Louis grabs Harry’s hand blindly, before making a run for it towards Harry’s room.

“And don’t forget to use protection!” he yells out over his shoulder, barely glancing at Trevor and Liam who seem to be still frozen in their spots, red-faced and disheveled.

Harry shuts the door behind them quickly, before they both double over laughing.

“Did you see Liam’s face?” Louis wheezes through his laughter. “Oh my God, that was brilliant.”

“Did you see _Trevor_?” Harry asks, back to his door and hands covering his eyes. “Fuck, I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

“Even if we were interrupted,” Louis replies, laughter dying down now. He knows he must look disgustingly fond right now, but he can’t help it when Harry looks adorably rumpled and his eyes are shiny with tears from laughing and he’s still shirtless. The urgency gone now, Louis takes a few steps until he’s in front of Harry again and leans up to press a single, soft kiss to Harry’s lips, because he can do that now.

Harry beams back at him as he goes for a kiss himself. “Not sure I fancy being here while they do...whatever it is they do.”

“I have it on good authority that they’re pretty versatile,” Louis says dryly.

“Louis!” Harry shrieks, slapping his arm lightly. “You haven’t been eavesdropping!”

Louis looks partly scandalized but mostly amused as he says, “Look, it wasn’t my fault, okay? I was on the floor in the kitchen behind the counter picking up a box of cereal that had exploded everywhere. Which was _also_ not my fault. And I didn’t realize that Liam was home but it wasn’t _just_ Liam. And then I heard...things.” Louis fakes a shudder and then grins wickedly at Harry. “I can also say that our little Lima Bean is much kinkier than we gave him credit for.”

“Oh my God,” Harry groans, covering his ears and shutting his eyes. “No, I can’t hear this. I can’t think about it. Where’s that bleach? I need it for my brain.”

Louis busts out into laughter again and tugs Harry’s hands from his ears, linking their hands together.

“How about, maybe, you forget about the bleach, put on a shirt, and then we go out to dinner. Maybe take a nice long walk back to give them extra time.”

“Louis Tomlinson, are you asking me on a date right now?”

“I might be. But only because we were about two seconds away from getting off like teenagers in our hallway, and I’d quite like to take you out properly before I make you come.”

“Sounds like a fair deal,” Harry nods seriously. “Dinner and orgasms are what make a date, right?”

“Like wining and dining, only better, because orgasms are better than wine in my opinion,” Louis says back.

Harry laughs and gives Louis one more kiss before gently pushing him away. He glances around his bedroom, eyes falling on his soft lavender jumper he’d just worn the other day draped over his desk chair. He crosses the room and picks it up. He tosses it to Louis and says, “Here, put this on.”

“I’m not the one shirtless, Harold,” Louis teases, but he can’t help digging his fingers into the material. It’s well-worn, clearly a loved favorite, and feels smooth and soft on his hands. He wants to make Harry work for it, though.

“It’s freezing outside,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. He goes to his dresser and pulls out another jumper, this one plain black. “Don’t want you freezing to death before we get to the fun stuff.”

“It’s all the fun stuff,” Louis counters, and then he tugs the jumper over his head. It smells like Harry, like cinnamon and a bit of musk and mint. The jumper feels even better on than it does on his fingers, so Louis stops complaining.

He thinks he’ll keep it.

Harry ventures to his door and leans his ear against it. “I don’t hear anything,” he whispers conspiratorially. He twists the doorknob and pulls it open a crack, peering into the hallway. It’s quiet. “I think the coast is clear.”

He tugs the door the rest of the way open and Louis follows him out into the hallway. They creep carefully to the front of the flat. Trevor and Liam are long gone. They step into their shoes quietly too, shrugging on jackets and beanies and grabbing a set of their keys from the strawberry dish before exiting the flat without making a sound.

Once they’re over the threshold and the door is shut behind them, Louis peers at Harry in all his bundled glory and says, “How do you feel about food carts?”

\----

At nearly ten o’clock at night, there isn’t much open. Even though Christmas is just days away, the little shops that line the street are flicking off their lights and locking up. As they step out onto the street, Harry shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket to protect them from the biting wind. Simultaneously they both walk down the street in the direction of a speciality pretzel cart that tends to be parked a few blocks east of their flat. Almost all of the shops are dark and the street is quiet. With many of the university students gone, Leeds could be a ghost town. Louis and Harry are the only ones on the street.

Their hands bump occasionally as they walk to the cart, and Harry can’t help but giggle when Louis steps on a stone and loses his footing for half a second, cursing at the stone. Louis shoots him a glare.

“Something funny, Curly?” he asks, narrowing his eyes in what Harry supposes is meant to be a threatening way.

“You,” Harry says simply, eyes lit up and dimples on display. “You’re funny.”

“I know,” Louis says matter-of-factly but Harry can see his mouth turn up in a grin.

When they reach the cart, the middle-aged man named Jan who runs it sees Louis and goes, “Louis! How are ya, mate?”

“Good,” Louis replies, waving in hello. “Not too late for a pretzel dog, are we?”

“No no,” Jan says. “Just about to close up shop for the night, but you’re just in time. I was going to bring these home to Natasha but I’ve got a few cinnamon sugar ones left too. Ya interested? On the house!”

“Absolutely,” Louis says. Then, he turns to Harry, “How about it, Curly? Pretzel dog and cinnamon sugar?”

Harry can’t remember the last time he had a cinnamon sugar pretzel. “Sounds good to me!”

Louis handles the transaction, slapping Harry’s hands away when he goes to grab for some money. “I told you,” Louis says under his breath while Jan wraps up their pretzels, “I’m taking you out properly. If it was a bit earlier we’d actually go somewhere and sit down, but this will have to do.”

“This is perfect,” Harry replies quietly as Jan hands over a hot pretzel with the tip of a hot dog peeking out. It’s all very suggestive. Harry loves it.

They bid Jan good night and Harry follows Louis in the direction of the park, the one where Harry had stopped on his way home from class and watched Louis play football. It feels like a lifetime ago now.

Just before they reach it, though, Louis spies one store across the street with its lights still on. “Starbucks!” he yells victoriously. “C’mon, Harold. I want hot chocolate.”

They race each other across the street into the blessedly warm coffee shop. Louis doesn’t waste any time in strolling up to the counter where he places an order for two hot chocolates with whipped cream. Once again, he pays. Harry doesn’t fight him on it.

Once their steaming cups of hot chocolate are in hand, Louis leads the way back out onto the cold street and they continue their trek to the park. They walk in silence for another minute before Louis stops in front of a bench and turns back to Harry. “Here okay?”

They’ve got some protection from the wind by a few large trees, so this is probably as good a place as any. “Yeah,” Harry agrees, and he sits down next to Louis. He unravels the wrapping of his pretzel dog and takes a bite. It’s hot, blissfully so out in the December cold, and even better he can feel Louis’ body warmth next to him.

“So why were you cleaning the bathroom?” Louis asks, twisting himself on the bench so he can look directly at Harry. He sips from his red Starbucks cup.

“Oh, uh,” Harry blushes, thankful that it’s probably hidden by the fact that his cheeks are already bitten red, “I wanted to clean it before we all left so it would be good for when we came back.”

“We’re not _that_ bad,” Louis protests.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Louis, it’s four guys and one bathroom. Even neat freak Liam leaves hair in the tub.”

Louis laughs and winces. “Gross. You’re a saint for even bothering to clean up after everyone,” Louis replies, nudging Harry with his shoulder.

“I like cleaning,” Harry says, looking down at his food. “I like when a place feels like it’s yours, you know? Clean. Maybe some candles. I’d love a dog but we definitely don’t have room for it.”

“Not one for the bachelor pad life, are you?” Louis teases, eyes filled with mirth but Harry can’t help but feel warm all over at the soft smile Louis is giving him.

“No, I want a family home,” Harry replies and then freezes. _Jesus_ , way to zoom right into together forever talk. He tries to backtrack. “I mean, someday. Not today. Obviously. But. Yeah. Someday.”

Louis’ gentle laugh breaks him out of his awkward stuttering. “It’s okay, Curly. I understand.”

Harry lets out a breath and leans further back into the bench, mouth stretching over the rest of his pretzel dog. He knows Louis is watching him, so if he makes a bit of a show of his lips fitting around the hot dog… Well, there’s no one out here to see.

“What are your plans for Christmas?” Louis asks and oh, they’re breaching the impending separation then.

It definitely doesn’t feel particularly good to think about how they’ve only just gotten here, just gotten _this_ , and they’re both about to head their separate ways for a bit. It’s temporary, and Harry definitely needs to get a grip, but he can’t help but feel like he doesn’t want to be apart from Louis now. Not his laugh, not his smell, not his teasing, not anything. Not now that he’s only just gotten to enjoy it.

“I’ll be spending it with my mum and step-dad,” Harry answers, “and my sister is coming home for a few days, too. She lives in London. We’ll do dinner and presents and Christmas movies. What about you?”

“Pretty much the same, though my house will undoubtedly be louder than yours,” Louis laughs. He pauses, crumpling up his pretzel dog wrapper before reaching next to him and opening up the bag with the cinnamon sugar pretzels. He reaches in and tears off a piece, handing it to Harry. It’s still warm. “I’m excited to see them, I am,” he goes on, “but… But I wish I could take you with me.”

Harry feels his face break out into a large grin, the warmth he felt in his chest spreading through his whole body. It feels like his heart has grown about five sizes in the last ten seconds. “I know. Me too.”

“But we’ll talk,” Louis says resolutely. “I expect to hear from you on my birthday, Harold.”

Harry nods eagerly. “Of course.”

“And it’s not like we’re not going to see each other in two weeks anyway,” Louis continues. It sounds like he’s mostly trying to convince himself, which is so endearing Harry isn’t sure he knows how to handle it.

“Absolutely,” Harry agrees as he drinks from his own Starbucks cup, letting the liquid warm him from the inside out.

“It’s what, a little over two weeks? We’ll text. And Skype. That’s what they made them for, after-”

Harry cuts him off before he finishes the sentence, reaching over and wrapping his hand around Louis’ neck and pulling him into a kiss. The words die on Louis’ lips as he kisses back. Harry can taste cinnamon sugar and chocolate on his lips and he pulls at the beanie pulled over Louis’ ears to make sure they’re safe from the wind. The forgotten bag of cinnamon sugar pretzels rustles between them as Harry tugs Louis closer and presses quick, hard kisses to Louis’ mouth. He hopes he didn’t knock over his hot chocolate.

Harry feels it when Louis places his hands on his cheeks, cold fingers caressing his skin as Louis cups his face and kisses back. He can feel little breaths against his lips and Louis’ tongue running along the seam of his lips. He opens his lips enough for Louis to slip his own tongue inside. He tastes like sugar and a little bit of tobacco and Harry can’t breathe, Louis sucking the air from his mouth and leaving him lightheaded. Their breaths puff out into the cold air in little bursts before quickly disappearing.

Harry pulls back and rests his forehead against Louis’, eyes still shut. “Louis Tomlinson,” he whispers, “are you worried?”

Louis’ response is to pull Harry in for another kiss, this one soft and sweet. It makes a happy warmth lick its way up Harry's spine that has nothing to do with the hot chocolate. It settles him in this moment with his hands resting on Louis’ head and Louis’ cold fingers soothing his flushed cheeks.

When Louis pulls back, his voice is quiet as he says, “I think it's time I got you home, Curly.”

Harry grins. “You did promise me an orgasm.”

He has barely a second to catch Louis’ devilish grin before he's being tugged to his feet.

\----

When Louis finally, _finally_ , gets Harry pinned up against the door of his bedroom, all rational thought seems to just fly out of his brain. It becomes a litany of _yes closer more yes more harder_ as he uses the full length of his body to keep Harry’s back to the door, his head twisted to the side so Louis can get at his mouth properly. He drags Harry’s hands from his waist and links their fingers, tugging them to the side so he can pin Harry’s wrists to the door too. Harry groans at that, a hot, low moan that Louis can feel vibrating in his own chest. It makes Louis push against him a little harder, a little rougher.

“Bed,” Harry grunts out against Louis’ mouth. “Louis, bed.”

“Mmm,” Louis says, shaking his head. “Not yet.”

Harry grinds forward towards Louis, their groins flush together as Louis attacks Harry’s mouth again. He tongues along Harry’s lips until Harry opens them again, allowing Louis to slip his tongue in again and press hot, feverish kisses to Harry’s mouth over and over and over. The room is hot and Louis feels lightheaded and hazy. His brain begins to short-circuit at a particularly sinful grind Harry gives him, just enough pressure to drive him crazy.

“ _Baby_ ,” he groans himself, pushing back against Harry so their cocks line up, Louis’ jeans getting tighter and constricting. They need to do something about that. “What do you want me to do?”

“Hands,” Harry says on a whine as Louis digs his nails into his hands on a thrust forward. “Your hands, Louis.”

Louis peels his lips away from Harry’s to start peppering kisses along his cheek and jaw. “Just my hands, love?” he asks.

“I’m not gonna last,” Harry says on an embarrassed laugh, eyes screwed shut. He squeezes Louis’ hands tight in his own, all-encompassing and warm and sweaty. “I’m gonna come as soon as you touch me.”

“Hmm,” Louis hums, now trailing kisses down Harry’s neck. “Can’t wait to touch you.”

“Are we going to move to the bed?” Harry asks. Louis begins to suck a bruise to his collarbone and Harry groans again. “Louis, if you don’t get me on the bed I’m literally going to kill you in your sleep.”

Louis laughs and pulls away. He kisses Harry again, softer this time. With a smile he says, “Cheer up, buttercup. Patience is a virtue.”

In a show of superhuman strength and quick reflexes Louis didn’t think Harry even possessed, Harry flips their positions and slams Louis’ back to the bedroom door. He hikes him up a bit, his groin pinning Louis’ to the wood and holding him there as he thrusts minutely. Louis can feel his own eyes widen, can see Harry’s blown black in front of him as he leans in. Instead of kissing him, though, Harry hovers next to his ear.

“Louis Tomlinson,” he growls, “if you don’t get your hands on me in the next thirty seconds, I’m going to make sure you die from blue balls.”

Louis certainly doesn’t want that, so he pushes back against Harry until Harry releases him and all but drags him to his bed. There’s an Adidas jumper draped over one side, and a book he’d been reading for class at the foot of the bed. He kicks both to the floor and pulls Harry with him until they’re both lying on their sides. As soon as they’re settled he wraps his hand around Harry’s neck and tugs until their lips crash together, all teeth and tongue and just this side of too rough but it feels amazing, especially when Harry gets a hand on his bum and pulls him so they’re flush again.

“Louis,” Harry says in a warning tone. “You promised.”

“That I did, Curly,” Louis says, and he kisses Harry again as he drags his hand from his neck down his front, down to where the hem of his shirt meets the waistband of his yoga pants. Louis skirts his hand underneath the shirt, scratching at Harry’s skin lightly and running his fingers through his treasure trail. Harry hisses into his mouth when Louis begins to push his fingertips beneath the waistband of his pants and meets...nothing.

“Harry Styles,” Louis says in a mock-scandalized voice. “Are you going commando?”

“Surprise,” Harry says on a breath, then licks a stripe up the side of Louis’ neck before nibbling on his earlobe.

Surprise is an understatement. Harry Styles is every one of Louis’ fantasies come to life, wrapped up in a guitar-playing, yoga-doing, kale-eating sex god, and they haven’t even gotten to the sex part yet, which Louis plans on rectifying just this minute.

He doesn’t waste any more time before pushing his hand completely down and finding its way around Harry’s cock. Harry groans even louder at that, a breathless _yes_ in his voice as Louis begins to stroke him slowly, up and down in an even tempo. His mind is surprisingly focused, tuned into every little whimper, every gasp of air that Harry gives out as Louis strokes his cock. It’s better than he ever imagined. Harry is so responsive, so pliant as he lets Louis do this for him. He can feel his own cock, hard and aching in his jeans, and he wants to come so badly but he wants to this for Harry, first. He wants to make him feel this.

“Fuck, that’s amazing,” Harry says. “Your hands are amazing.”

“You feel amazing,” Louis says back, leaning in to kiss Harry again. He keeps the rhythm going, hand gliding over the smooth, hot skin and feeling precome beading at the tip. “You’re so hot, Haz,” he groans into his mouth.

“I’m close,” Harry says, laughing in spite of himself. “Fuck, I’m going to come.”

“Good,” Louis says, speeding up his strokes. On a downward stroke he runs his fingertips over the slit, feeling the wetness pooling there and dragging it back up Harry’s cock. “Want you to. Want to feel it.”

“Fuck,” Harry hisses again, “faster, Lou.”

Louis complies, hand sliding up and down his cock faster. He squeezes on the downstroke, causing Harry to throw his head back and moan. Louis kisses him again, swallows the sound as he keeps going, keeps stroking him hard and fast until he hears Harry’s breath catch.

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry cries out just as Louis feels Harry’s cock spurt a stream of come into his hand.

Louis strokes him through it, slides his hand up and down slowly as Harry rides out his orgasm. He gathers the come in his hand and uses it to ease the glide. He finally stills his hand, still wrapped loosely around Harry’s cock, when Harry grabs him by the back of the head and pulls him in for a kiss.

Louis lets himself be kissed, revels in Harry’s aborted breaths and the way he moves his lips over his slowly, so slowly. It’s like he can feel every nerve ending in Harry’s overheated skin and loves that he _did_ that.

“That was incredible,” Harry says into his mouth.

“I appreciate any and all feedback,” Louis teases.

“Seriously,” Harry says, pulling away and kissing Louis once on the tip of his nose. “Haven’t done that in a long time.”

“What, a handjob?” Louis asks, slowly unwrapping his hand from Harry’s cock and pulling it from his pants. He wipes his hand on his jeans, not all that bothered. They need to be washed, anyway.

“No, came in my pants,” Harry says, huffing a laugh. “Pretty sure the last time that happened was with my last girlfriend.”

It seems like an odd time to bring it up, but Louis is genuinely curious. “So are you, like… Do you date girls, too?”

Harry looks confused for a second. “No. No, I’m gay.”

“I was just wondering!” Louis is quick to say. “Niall just mentioned, a while back, he hadn’t seen you date a girl in a while, so I wasn’t sure if it was, like, you like both, or…” He trails off, face flushed.

“I haven’t had a girlfriend since my first semester at uni,” Harry answers, bringing his hand up to run his fingers along Louis’ red cheeks. “I dated girls up until then. I thought I was bi early on, before I realized that I am exclusively attracted to men.”

Louis kind of wants to punch himself for bringing down the mood. What a great post-orgasm conversation topic, Tomlinson. “I’m sorry if I sounded dumb just now,” Louis says. “It wouldn’t have mattered. It _doesn’t_ matter. Not to me. I just figured I’d ask.”

“I don’t mind,” Harry shrugs. “It was some trial and error. I experimented with girls and boys and didn’t really figure it out until I got here, but it’s been a long time.”

Louis nods. “Me too,” he says. “To the experimentation thing. But I’m gay.” He pauses, then chuckles. “In case that wasn’t _abundantly_ clear before now.”

“Mmm,” Harry hums. “Your dick trying to impale my stomach is a pretty good indication.”

Louis’ mouth drops open and he slaps Harry on the arm. Harry bursts into laughter and grabs hold of the offending hand, not at all concerned that it was previously covered in his own come. He kisses the pout off of Louis’ face, eyes bright and a smirk on his lips.

“I suppose I should help you with that, right, Tomlinson?” Harry asks. He lets go of Louis’ hand and runs it down his front. He doesn’t pause before unbuttoning Louis’ jeans one-handed and pulling the zip down.

Louis gasps when he feels Harry rub the front of his boxer briefs, a wet patch forming at the front from where his cock is leaking precome. “Fair’s fair.”

Harry continues to rub him with his palm and laughs when Louis lets out a loud groan. “How does that feel?”

“It feels like you’re a goddamn tease, Harold,” Louis moans when Harry stops moving his hand. “You really are going to kill me with blue balls.”

“Nah,” Harry says as he snakes his hand down the front of Louis’ underwear and tugs his cock free. “I think I want to keep you around for a while.”

“Orgasm was that good, huh?” Louis jokes. He chokes on his laugh, though, when Harry rubs his thumb over the slit and presses down. “Oh, fuck me.”

“I thought that’s what I was doing,” Harry says dryly.

“Ha fucking ha,” Louis answers with because that’s pretty much all he’s capable of right at this moment. Fuck, that feels amazing. He’s imagined Harry’s hands on him, of course. Harry always looked like he’d have amazing hands, hands made just for this. Big and warm and strong, confident and sure as he strokes Louis up and down. His palms are tough, no doubt from all the guitar playing, but it just adds to the delicious pressure Louis feels. He feels like he’s going to burst, heat pulling in his stomach and his breathing labored.

“You close?” Harry asks him, speeding up his hand.

“Yeah,” Louis breathes out. “Keep doing that.”

“I’m so glad I get to do this,” Harry whispers. “Been thinking about it for so long. What it would feel like to touch you.”

“I hope I didn’t disappoint,” Louis jokes, though he can’t help the little bit of insecurity he feels at offering up that comment.

“Never,” Harry answers. “You’re a vision. Look at yourself, Louis. I want you to see yourself.”

Louis wrenches his eyes down and nearly comes from the sight, Harry’s big hand sliding up and down his cock with measured strokes. He feels it _and_ sees it when Harry runs his fingers over the tip to gather precome and drags it back up over him, his cock beginning to shine with the wetness. He’s so hard, has been what feels like forever, but he needs something else.

He raises his head again to look Harry in the eyes. “Kiss me,” he requests, and Harry does just that.

It’s only a few more strokes before Louis is gasping into Harry’s mouth and squeezing his eyes shut. He feels it when his cock spurts over Harry’s hand and his own belly and shirt. He rides it out, relishes in Harry’s hand stroking him through it before his breathing calms down and he can open his eyes.

Harry leans in and kisses Louis, soft and sweet, just a gentle press of lips as their hearts slow down.

“Thank you,” Harry says quietly. He brings his free hand up from under him and runs it through Louis’ hair, damp with sweat. “That was fun.”

“It was,” Louis agrees. He glances down and winces. “Though we should probably clean up.”

Harry groans and drops his head to the pillow dramatically. “Must we?”

“Unless you want to sleep in your own jizz, yeah,” Louis says. Harry pouts, then, green eyes big and round and Louis knows what’s coming.

“Or, you could bring a flannel back?” Harry suggests, a wicked glint in his eye proving to Louis he knows _exactly_ what he’s doing.

“Ugh, fine,” Louis relents, collapsing back to his bed before hoisting himself up. “But only ‘cause you’re cute, Curly.”

Harry preens at the compliment and settles back further into Louis’ bed, looking every bit like he belongs there. Louis can admit that he does.

Louis quietly opens his bedroom door and slips into the hallway, trekking to the bathroom to wet a flannel. He wipes himself down first and splashes some water on his face, still flushed and overheated. He grabs a clean hand towel from the cabinet and heads back to his room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

He stops at his dresser to pull out a pair of joggers, soft grey ones that have always been a bit long on him but should fit Harry fine. He tosses them onto Harry’s legs.

“Hey!” Harry whines.

“Off they go, Curly,” Louis says, pulling on Harry’s yoga pants with a hand. “These definitely need to be washed.”

He doesn’t watch. He turns around and goes back to his dresser, searching for a pair of joggers to change into himself. He pulls off Harry’s wonderful lavender jumper and carefully drapes it over his computer chair. He hears Harry rustling around behind him.

There’s no reason to be embarrassed, they did just jerk each other off, so Louis drops his jeans and boxer briefs to the floor before stepping into clean underwear and his chosen joggers. He feels Harry’s eyes on him, but Harry doesn’t say anything. When Louis looks up, Harry is shirtless and in his joggers and looking at him with soft, fond eyes.

“C’mon,” Harry says, gesturing with his head. “I think it’s time for a cuddle.”

Louis couldn’t agree more.

\----

Harry wakes up to a warm chest against his back and arms wrapped around his waist. In his first moments of waking up he settles into the warmth, wiggling his bum into the space to get himself closer and closer to it. Until a high breathy giggle lets out into his ear.

“Well good morning. Someone’s a cuddle bug.” Louis squeezes Harry’s waist, making him yelp and turn around. He picked a fleshy part that was just a little too ticklish. His arms didn’t unwrap though, and Harry can feel himself smile, despite it being the morning he has to leave for break, just because this is the vision he gets to wake up to.

Louis’ hair is completely sleep mused, tossed in every different direction, and his blue eyes are bleary but so fucking bright, and he looks like a literal angel, with his arms, legs and warm body wrapped around Harry in every way.

Harry tries to shrug nonchalantly. “Well, maybe I could get used to this.”

Louis smiles one of those soft smiles that Harry adores. The one that he gets when Harry trips over his own two feet, or tells a knock-knock joke, or as he recently discovered: when he leans in to kiss him.

Louis leans in and kisses Harry’s nose, and butterflies flap wildly in his stomach. “Well, I wouldn’t get too used to it. I’m quite the hungry man in the morning.”

Harry cuddles in deeper, pressing his nose up against Louis’ neck, breathing in deep. Louis smells musky and minty and warm, Harry’s nose burrowing down into his skin. “You’ll never catch me. Make Niall do it.”

Louis blows a raspberry on the side of Harry’s forehead, making Harry squeal. “Get out of bed you lazy git. I’ll even help you.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You mean you’ll sit on the counter and throw around words of encouragement.”

“That’s my boy,” Louis winks, as Harry’s heart races, and throws the covers off of Harry completely and shoves him out of bed.

They end up getting into a pillow fight and tickle war, pinning each other to the bed and the floor and tossing Louis’ blankets all over the place. It delays breakfast by almost an hour, but neither of them seem to mind.

\----

Louis drops his head onto the table with a groan.

Harry looks up from where he’s eating a banana. “What? I’m trying to be as not sexy as possible!”

Louis breaks into a fit of giggles. Was that not what he meant by that groan? Oops.

“No Haz,” Louis breaks off into another giggle. “Lottie just texted me our plans for the next two weeks. Apparently my mum really wants to make this break about family time and she’s got a day trip planned for the two youngest twins basically every day.”

Harry is confused. “You don’t want that? I thought you were so excited to see your siblings everyday.”

“No I am, I just. I thought maybe one day we could see each other or something,” Louis starts mumbling and shoves a piece of mango in his mouth to hide his blush.

Harry leans over the table and kisses him, mouth full.

“You’re going to send me pictures of every place you go to. And I’m going to send you ones back. So much that your siblings are going to be sick and tired of my beautiful face on their brother’s phone. They’re going to see me so much they’re going to start calling me Uncle Harry. Got it?”

Harry’s sure his face is flaming just as much as Louis’ but it’s worth it for the bubbly laugh he gets in return.

“Got it,” Louis smiles bright, and kisses Harry again.

\----

“I’m leaving!” Niall calls out. “Oi, Harry, Louis! I am going back to Ireland literally right now.”

Harry hears a bag slam down, and then Niall’s feet padding down the hallway. He pulls Louis off his lap immediately.

“Wipe your mouth,” Louis hisses as he scrambles off of Harry’s bed. The way he’s hovering next to him looks anything but natural but Niall doesn’t seem to notice as he barges into the room, looking from Harry to Louis.

“Oh there you are. I was wondering where you guys were.”

Louis grabs his phone off the desk. “I was just showing Harry this funny video on my phone that my sister sent me.”

Harry has to stifle a snort. Louis did come in there mid-packing to show Harry a video of Ernie kicking around a football that Lottie had sent him. Somehow that turned into a fifteen minute snogging session on Harry’s bed but. Who cares?

“Can I see?” Niall asks, scrambling over to Louis.

Harry does snort this time.

Louis pulls up the video, which has Niall cackling in seconds and _awww_ ’ing at all the appropriate moments. Ernie is quite adorable.

“I’m glad I came back here for that. Enjoy yourselves boys. Ireland awaits, and I, for one, can’t wait for a home cooked meal that involves no one else but me.”

Niall grabs Louis and kisses him on the mouth and then grabs Harry’s face and does the same.

“Love you guys, but I’ll see you fucking later. Don’t be surprised if you don’t hear from me!”

Louis looks horrified as Niall leaves the room, and Harry meets his gaze slowly, probably just as horrified.

The front door slams heavily. And just like that, they’re alone again.

Louis holds up his hand. “Niall just kissed both of us on the mouth. We are not snogging right now.”

Harry laughs so hard he feels tears start to sting his eyes, but Louis pounces on him again anyway.

\----

Louis’ face is pressed into Harry’s chest and Harry honestly can’t think of anything that is better than his current situation.

Well.

It’d be better if he was going on an island vacation with Louis and not just going home for two weeks to be pestered by Gemma every single day, but.

He’s still got this wonderful, lovely boy pressed up against him, squeezing him half to death, heads covered in beanies and stuffed into warm coats and completely ignoring the bustling wind nipping at their exposed faces. All he feels is Louis, warm, wonderful Louis, and he couldn’t ask for anything else.

He breathes in Louis’ scent, just in case he forgets it over the two weeks.

He’s been breathing in his scent, tasting Louis’ lips for the last twenty four hours and he really doesn’t want to stop. He really fucking doesn’t want to stop.

He makes a sound that sounds like a cross between a groan and a whimper.

Louis just smells so good. Feels so good. Comfortable and toasty and like he was made to fit in Harry’s arms.

Louis pulls away to look at Harry’s face. “You’re a little shit. You’ve been giving me lip for complaining about missing you and here you are sniffing me and acting like a puppy whose owner is leaving for the day.”

Harry pouts.

“You didn’t act like this when poor Lima Bean left. You practically kicked him out, and here you are clinging onto me like a lost puppy.”

Louis had hugged Liam for an abnormally long time, so much so that Harry wondered what Liam and Louis got up to in the times that they were alone in the flat. Louis had mentioned getting high with Liam and him spilling sex secrets. (Harry had demanded to hear them all, though he has to admit he hasn’t been able to think of Liam quite the same way since.)

Harry had just given Liam a kiss on the cheek, a pat on the bum, and sent him on his way. He’s dealt with saying goodbye to Liam and Niall for break many times. After three years it was easy.

Saying see you later to Louis was different. Not when he had gotten used to his loud voice in every aspect of his life.

Not when he had heard his moans, directly in his ear.

Not when he’d felt how hot his skin gets when he’s turned on.

  
Not when Louis had made him come.

He was thrilled, ecstatic, elated that his internship was over and the hardest semester of his life had finally ended. He’d said goodbye to the company, thanked them for the opportunity, and high-tailed it out the door. He was so happy to go home and have no responsibilities but go golfing with his step-dad, Robin, and eat his mum’s cooking and hang out with Gemma and sleep late and not worry about school until January. Home had everything for him to look forward to.

But, leaving this? Leaving Louis who looked like a view he’d want to wake up to every morning?

Of course Harry was going to pout.

“We’ll Skype so much that your sister will get so sick of me she’ll call me Uncle Louis.” An evil smile spreads across Louis’ face as he repeats back Harry’s words to him.

Harry bites at his neck in retaliation.

It loses its heat when he ends up nuzzling there though, ignoring Louis’ incredulous laugh when he breathes in his scent again.

“Two weeks, Curly. That’s it. And we’ll talk every day,” Louis’ voice has gone soft, and his hands card through Harry’s hair.

Harry pulls back and takes just a second to take in Louis’ fond eyes and little smirk before he kisses him, slow and soft.

“‘m gonna miss you,” he mumbles.

“‘m gonna miss you too, Curly. Especially bothering that pretty little face of yours everyday. Now come on, get a move on. Lottie’s going to skin me alive if I don’t make it back for movie night.”

Louis leans in this time, pressing his mouth to Harry’s. It’s a mind numbing kiss that leaves Harry completely breathless, his toes curling.

“See you in two weeks, Harold,” Louis says as he pulls away. He gets into his car and waves once before slowly pulling out of the car park, leaving Harry to do nothing but watch him go.

It’s not until he gets into his car and is at least fifteen minutes down the road before he realizes he doesn’t have Louis’ number.

He panics the rest of the ride, mentally berating himself for such a dumb slip-up.

He’s settled on texting Liam for Louis’ number knowing there is virtually no way that Niall will get back to him right away and is feeling marginally better as he pulls into his driveway. He’s about to do just that when his phone beeps.

_scared you, didn’t i? thought you’d get away so easily huh?_

A second one comes in a second later.

_got your hand on my dick before you even got my number, yer a dirty boy harry styles_

The butterflies in Harry’s stomach flap wildly, as he sends Louis his first selfie of the next two weeks, his eyes crossed and pursing his lips in a mock kiss.

They’re going to have a lot of fun.

\-----

Louis wakes up on his birthday to the sound of Lottie’s voice screaming incessantly. Considering how he’d woken up just days before, with Harry’s back pressed to his front and his lovely curls in his face and his everything taking up all of Louis’ senses, it isn’t exactly the best way to come to.

He checks his phone immediately, noting a few texts from Niall ( _I LOVE U BOO BEAR HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHPPY BIRHTDAY BRO_ ), Liam ( _happy bday im so glad u live w us mate its the best love u_ ) and a few from some guys on his footie team. He’s almost disappointed that he didn’t wake up to a phone call from Harry, but then he stops for a second, mind hazy from Lottie’s repetitive yelling and lack of sleep. Did he tell ever explicitly tell Harry his birthday? He had told him he’d expected to hear from him, but did they ever talk about birthdays? He had to have mentioned it was on Christmas Eve. He always brags about his birthday. Or complains. Whatever.

Harry wouldn’t forget. He probably just didn’t wake up yet. Louis checks the time. 9:20 am.

He’s got time.

“Louis!” Lottie yells shrilly again. “Get the mail!”

Louis rolls his eyes, throws off the covers, and stomps downstairs. He shouldn’t have to do menial tasks like get the mail on his birthday.

“Lottie, you are literally three feet away from the door. You can’t fucking do this yourself?”

“Language!” his mum scolds from the kitchen. He winces. He didn’t even see her there.

Louis opens the door to get the mail, only to trip over a nondescript brown box on the porch.

“Who,” his voice trails off as he reads the label, addressed to himself.

He didn’t order anything.

Especially something this large.

He brings it inside and raises an eyebrow at Lottie. “Is this for me?”

She doesn’t look up from her spot on the sofa in the living room, phone in hand. “Does it have your name on it?”

“Yes,” Louis answers unsurely.

“Then why are you asking me that?”

Louis ignores her completely. He can’t believe his sisters are able to give it to him as good as he can give now. It disturbs him.

He carries the box quickly up to his room, completely confused.

He grabs his keys, slicing open the tape and revealing the contents. He pens the flaps to reveal another box.

A Build-A-Bear box.

Louis stares, heart racing, and opens the box slowly.

He pulls out a brown bear, soft and fluffy, in a footie jersey.

Louis doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

He digs in the box to find the birth certificate.

He pulls it out, cackling at the bear’s name, Lucas with “since you love One Tree Hill ;)” written next to it, and a note at the bottom that says “made with love by Harold Styles” after it says belongs to _Lewis Tomlinson_.

From two weeks ago.

Louis runs over to his bed and grabs his phone as quickly as he can, finding his contact for Curly.

Harry answers on the first ring.

“Happy birthday, Lou!” he sings happily.

“You got me a bear,” Louis states.

He can practically hear Harry nod through the phone. “Yes, I got you a bear,” he confirms, all smiles through his tone.

“It’s dressed in footie gear,” Louis says a little desperately.

“It is. Do you like it?” Louis can still hear the fucking smile in his voice, can picture the sweet, sweet, bright smile in his mind.

“I love it. How did you even,” Louis trails off, rubbing at the bear’s ears, inspecting every inch of his soft fur.

Harry goes quiet for a moment.

“Harry?”

“Remember that picture that Fizzy took of us? Well, she sent it into both Lottie and I, and so like I got her number and then I was like in this groupchat with them and they’d both like sometimes send me texts about your day or like even send baby pictures of you like only like twice, I promise. But then I asked them your address so I could do this and they helped me. I ordered it weeks ago and I tried to ship it in time so it would be there for your birthday but you know with the holidays, I was worried it wouldn’t get there until after so I’m happy it got there and. Yeah,” Harry rushes out in one breath, faster than Louis has ever heard him speak.

Louis takes a moment to consider the deluge of information. His sisters. Harry. Groupchat. Baby pictures.

“Lottie! Fizzy!” Louis yells, pulling the phone away.

He hears muffled yelling from Harry’s end but it’s unclear.

Louis runs down the stairs, phone still in hand to find Fizzy and Lottie giggling on the couch.

“We sent him your best baby pictures. Don’t worry you looked super cute in all of them,” Fizzy explains before he can even get a word out, a shit smile on her face.

“Curly,” Louis puts the phone back to his ear and locks eyes with his sisters. “Be prepared to listen to the murder of my sisters. I’m sorry it has to go this way.”

Harry’s giggles erupt butterflies in his stomach. “I’ll clear the dumping ground.”

“Oh no, you’re not off the hook, don’t try to co-conspire.” Harry honks a laugh. “I’ll call you when the bodies are dumped.”  


“Got it Lou,” Harry laughs, before adding softly. “Happy birthday, love.”

Louis blushes mad and he knows his sisters are watching every move.  
  
“Thanks, love. Now let me get to murdering.”

He calls Harry back in two hours, once he’s had a pillow fight so large his mother, Doris, and Ernie had to break it up, and watched a movie with all the girls (and boy).

Louis falls asleep talking to Harry on the phone, after a day with his family, and it’s the best birthday he’s had in a long time.

\----

Christmas Day and Boxing Day pass in a flurry of selfies, ribbon, wrapping paper, and late night drunken giggles on the phone (he and Harry talked for hours on Skype so Harry could see “those cheekbones and freckles” as he drunkenly put it). Louis doesn’t know how he could forget how much Ernie and Doris love making a mess with ribbon and wrapping paper, and he certainly doesn’t mind all the selfies he and his sisters shoot back and forth with Harry and Gemma.

The two days post-holidays include a trip to a scenic children’s park and ice skating. Ice skating had been a feat in itself, a trip that had lasted hours and resulted in sore bums and ankles.

Personally, his feet were killing him.

His mum had requested him to go out to dinner with them, but Lottie had skipped out to go eat with a boy, which gave Louis the perfect excuse to have some alone time in the house while everyone went out. He loved his family and loved being home with them and he missed them like hell when he was gone, but God damnit he needed five minutes to himself.

It is blissfully quiet, which also means it is no surprise he is practically falling asleep while on the phone with Harry even though it is only 7 pm.

“Am I boring you, Lou?” Harry asks, voice light.

“Never, my dear Curly. Maybe just spice up the conversation a little,” Louis suggests teasingly. “Don’t give me all the dirty details of apple crumb cake unless it’s about how you were eating it naked.”

Harry chuckles. “How exactly do I spice up the conversation?” Harry asks, voice deep and gruff and it’s totally a joke, Harry is totally joking right now, but Louis. Louis just.

“What are you wearing?” Louis asks, a teasing lilt to his voice, but he can tell it drops too serious as soon as it’s out.

He can’t help it. That’s where his mind goes when he’s in bed with a cute boy talking to him with a voice that’s as deep as the ocean, especially when he knows how it feels to have that voice in his ear in person and not just through a tinny phone line.

He’s about to question Harry’s quietness when he gets a notification of an incoming Skype call on his laptop at the foot of his bed, the screen lighting up from its sleep mode.

He realizes belatedly that Harry’s hung up the phone. Fuck.

Does that mean….? His mind whirls.

Louis accepts the call.

Harry’s face pops up, big green eyes wide and up close, his long hair up in a bun, a few stray curls falling into his face. He’s laying on his stomach on his bed, legs swinging behind him. Louis can see a lamp ablaze on his nightstand, a soft warm glow surrounding Harry as he grins at Louis into his webcam.

“Wearing a t-shirt and jeans,” Harry tells him with a toothy grin.

Louis hums, a smile on his face as he situates himself into a seated position. “C’mon then. Give us a twirl.”

Harry giggles, before getting up and twisting his laptop around. He gives a twirl in his thin white t-shirt and blue jeans. Louis is almost turned on at the sight. Louis swears he’s never seen blue jeans look so good on a pair of thighs before.

He whistles. “Looking good, babe. You should wear those jeans more often.”

Harry blushes a pretty shade of pink. “Could think of a few ways to look better,” he winks, turning around wiggling his bum a bit.

Louis can feel sweat start to pool along his hairline, his breathing starting to strain as Harry spins back around and grins wolfishly. Harry doesn’t make a move to sit down.

“Do you?” Louis wonders aloud playfully. “I was thinking you’d look lovely in a mumu.”

Harry barks a laugh. “I could definitely rock a mumu.” Harry drags the laptop closer to the edge of the bed and he still doesn’t sit down. He’s now close enough to the screen that Louis can see Harry’s eyes are sparkling, but there’s something darker there, just at the edges. His eyes flick up towards Louis’ as if he’s right in front of him, staring at him, smile suddenly gone.

Harry tongue reaches out to lick his lips.

And oh. Oh. Harry’s waiting. He’s waiting for Louis to make the decision of whether or not they do this. He’s waiting for Louis to give him the go ahead.

Christ. Louis’ dick twitches. That’s entirely hotter than it should be.

“Well then Harold,” Louis takes a deep breath. Fuck, they’re really going to do this. “I think you need to take off your clothes.”

The flush in Harry’s chest deepens. “Yeah?” Harry asks, amusement clear on his face.

“Yeah,” Louis smiles right back. “No one’s home.”

“Mum and Robin and Gemma went to the cinema,” Harry admits, fidgeting with the end of his thin shirt.

Louis hums, eyes bright. “Can’t let go of an opportunity like this now, can we?”

Harry shakes his head, before making a move to undo his jeans. Louis can just barely hear the pop of the button and the soft scrape of the zip as Harry tugs it down, revealing his V-line and the waistband of his briefs.

He pulls out of his jeans with only a few stumbles and giggles, milky white thighs on display. His pants are entirely too tight, leaving barely anything to the imagination. Louis can see where Harry’s cock is thick and definitely starting to show interest. Louis watches, transfixed as Harry’s hands then trail up slowly to his neckline, where he slowly, ever so slowly, pulls off his shirt inch by inch. His tattoos become exposed one by one, dark, dark, ink on his pale skin. It’s a beautiful contrast.

Louis isn’t sure he’s breathing.

Harry’s eyes lock on his, hand hovering over his pants. There’s a miniscule head-tilt as if to ask, “can I?”. Louis swallows hard.

He nods, movement jerky.

Harry turns around, pants tight around his bum, before pulling them down just as slowly as he did his shirt.

Louis drinks in every inch of his pert bum and strong thighs, mouth practically watering at the sight. Harry’s back is broad, defined, and Louis wants to absolutely ruin it with his nails, scrape his skin until it’s pink and covered in marks. Wants to see it arch under his fingertips and mouth.

“Turn around,” Louis says softly, voice gone high at the sight of seeing Harry’s backside completely naked, so willing.

Harry’s hard. That’s the first thing he sees. Harry’s cock is hard, curved up and glistening at the tip.

Louis doesn’t even think before he begins to palm himself, breath catching at the sight of Harry completely on display for him.

“Can I?” Harry motions to the bed.

“Yeah, yes,” Louis falters for a moment. “Yes. On the bed. Sit up by your headboard, laptop by your knees so I can see you.” A moment, and then: “Please,” Louis asks belatedly, when he realizes all he has done is give directions.

But Harry gets into his position quickly, complying with ease. “You,” Harry runs a hand through his hair. “You do the same,” Harry grunts.

Louis stares for a second completely entranced by Harry’s body. Fuck, seeing his body laying down, completely spread out is torturous when Louis is so far out of reach before Harry tackles on a desperate, “Please.”

Louis changes out of his clothes quickly, nowhere near as graceful or slow as Harry had done. He tugs off his shirt and tugs his joggers and boxers down in one pull, but he doesn’t miss the sharp intake of breath when he finally is naked, body fully on display for Harry.

Harry’s chest rises and falls rapidly, fingers twitching. His face is pink, just like his chest.

Louis situates himself so he is in the same position as Harry.

For a second, he had thought Harry had been waiting for his approval in the beginning to avoid awkwardness, or to make sure Louis was on the same page as him.

But now watching Harry’s hand hover on his hip, fist clenched while his cock is hard and clearly wanting relief, and his eyes are focused completely on Louis’, Louis isn’t so sure.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on in his life, and he now knows what that gorgeous cock feels like in his hand, hot and wet and aching. Seeing it on the screen, completely out of his reach, is almost even better.

Harry waits patiently, and Louis gets an idea. He just, he needs to know. He drags his hand down his chest, tweaking a nipple, letting a groan leave his lips.

Harry’s groan is louder, fist gripping his hip hard.

He still doesn’t touch himself.

“Please, Lou,” Harry gasps, as Louis tweaks his other nipple.

Louis lets his hand wander down the front of him, feeling every inch of his belly and hips until he finally grasps himself, his own cock harder than it’s ever been when touching himself.

Harry still doesn’t make a move to touch himself, even though Louis never said he couldn’t.

“Go ahead,” Louis nods, practically panting, pumping himself slowly. Fuck, he can’t believe Harry’s self-control. He can’t believe Harry in general. That he gets to do this with him, see him like this. Harry eagerly takes a hold of his own cock.

Louis groans. It’s a sight to see. A sight Louis wishes so desperately he could be able to see in person. Harry throws his head back at the relief, hand moving at a faster rate than Louis has set, eager to seek some friction.

He’s so fucking worked up.

Louis’ eyes trail over Harry’s stomach, muscles contracting as he breathes heavily. His eyes are locked on Louis, watching his every movement. Louis just wants to touch. He wants to replace Harry’s hand with his own hand, or maybe even his mouth. He wants so desperately to just touch. Touch everything, everywhere. Have Harry in every one of his senses, feel his sweat on his tongue, lick every part of him and feel Harry respond.

“You look so good, Harry. Want to touch you,” Louis pants out, hand setting a faster pace on his own cock.

“Want you to touch me,” Harry squeezes the base of his cock a little harder. “Can’t stop thinking about your hands on me. Think about it all the time.”

“Fuck,” Louis moans. He knows what Harry’s hand feels like. Big, calloused from music, strong grip. He can almost feel a ghost of it again, can almost pretend it’s Harry the one stroking him.

Harry’s hand speeds up. He swallows, throat bobbing and a sheen of sweat working it’s way onto his body. Even in the grainy quality of a screen Louis can see it. Can see his puffy nipples and his flushed pink chest, chest beginning to glisten and heave with his pants, heavy breaths tinny in Louis’ laptops shitty speakers.

Harry’s other hand starts to slink back, making it’s way behind his waist and.

“I didn’t tell you to do that.”

Harry freezes.

His chest rises and falls but his hands are frozen in their spot, completely unmoving. His eyes open and meet Louis’ on the screen.

Louis searches for any sign of discontent, but can’t find anything but Harry’s blown out eyes and his cock spurting pre-come. He stills his hand and waits, pausing even his hand that has been stroking his cock. He doesn’t look upset.

If anything, he’s even harder.

“If I’m not allowed to touch, you’re not allowed to touch. Only your hand on your cock, babe,” Louis tells him. Harry nods. “Go ahead, love. You can continue. If that other hand needs something to do, play with your nipples.”

Louis wonders briefly if Harry will listen, if he’s taking this too far, if they should slow down.

His breath catches as Harry’s hand flies to his nipples and the other hand starts pumping his cock again. Louis feels almost dizzy with Harry’s compliance to his directions. He’s never done this, never had someone to tell what to do, and never had someone who would listen. He’s dizzy with it though, so turned on he can barely breathe.

Louis grips himself tightly as Harry absolutely abuses his nipples, twisting and pulling them, moaning loudly as he works over himself in sync.

Fuck, it shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

“You’re doing so good Harry. Love that you’re working yourself up for me,” Louis tells him, breathlessly.

Harry whines, looking at Louis, eyes trailing over Louis’ body, eyes focused on his chest and cock.

“Get the extra ones in there, love. Go ‘ead,” Louis practically slurs. He can feel himself heating up from Harry’s eyes on him, watching him, speeding up just from seeing him so affected.

Harry presses down on one of his extra nipples, hard. He cries out as Louis bites back a moan.

“Come on, Harry. Know you want to come,” Louis puffs out, as Harry’s hips rock and his breathing is harsh.

Harry’s fist flies over his cock, eyes squeezed shut, and eyebrows twisted together. Louis doesn’t know if he’s ever seen anyone more beautiful. He’s heard Harry come before. He wants to hear it again, wants to see Harry come all over himself just from wanking with Louis watching, from Louis telling him what to do.

Louis can feel the heat pooling in his stomach already, delicious pleasure spiking in his belly as Harry lets out a moan.

Harry must recognize the hitch in Louis’ breath at that. His eyes open immediately, locked on Louis. Louis can feel it all the way in his toes. “Want to see you come, please,” Harry practically begs.

Louis mewls loudly, eyes focused on Harry. Harry’s whining, loudly and unabashedly, and Louis watches as he writhes and comes, all over his chest and fingers as Louis pumps himself faster and faster.

“Come on, Lou. Came just looking at you like that, making those sounds. You’re so beautiful,” Harry breathes out, voice heavy and breaths ragged, watching him closely, eyes never leaving him.

  
Louis’ orgasm hits him just like that, with Harry’s soft post-orgasm voice telling him he’s beautiful.

They both start giggling as soon as they catch their breath, collapsing back on their respective beds and grinning from ear to ear at how debauched they both look.

“Well that surely spiced up our conversation, Curly,” Louis jokes as Harry blushes and ducks his head.

“That escalated very quickly. We’re both covered in come,” Harry bites at his lip.

“We are. But I’m gladly covered in come. I’m wearing it proudly,” Louis puts on a cheesy smile, pointing at his stomach.

“You are a disgusting creature. Go get a wet cloth, you slob,” Harry teases, chest still dotted red but losing it’s heat. He just looks happy.

“I’ll get one when you get one, slob. You’re just as bad as I am. Trying to pretend this whole time like you’re a clean freak,” Louis calls out. “Look at you. Covered in come and leaving clothes on the floor. You’re filthy!”

Harry’s eyes widen as he laughs, smile brighter than the sun. “I’m not!”

“You are!” Louis laughs loudly.

He hears the door click open downstairs and slow rumbling of the his family’s voices.

Louis sighs, though he’s thankful that they’re finished because he’s not sure he could have disguised his moans even if he’d heard his family come home over them.

“Looks like you’re off the hook this time. Everyone just got home. I’ve got a mess to clean up here,” Louis tells him, but as he looks at Harry’s creamy skin, and serene smile he quite literally can’t let him go.

He just can’t.

“How about we both clean up and then I take you downstairs and Daisy and Pheobe can tell you all about ice skating?” Louis asks, hopefully.

Harry’s face lights up. “I’ll call you back in five.”  
  
He blows a kiss, finger hovering over the button before stopping.

“Hey Lou?”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, looking at Harry’s disheveled bun and clear eyes.

“I really liked that. With you. Like, it’s so good. With you,” Harry tells him, voice too deep to be revealing things like that. Louis’ stomach fills with butterflies, flapping wildly.

“I really liked it too, Curly. Because it was you,” Louis blushes, a lovely feeling spreading throughout him.

Harry just stares at him, brilliant smile on his face. “See you in five.”

Louis blows another kiss and hangs up.

Wow.

\----

Louis doesn’t stop thinking about Harry complying to everything he had said on the phone the entire rest of their break. It creeps up on him at the most inopportune moments, too, like when he’s having breakfast with his mum or having a tea party with Doris. He’ll get a text from Harry, or a selfie, or they’ll be talking on the phone before they go to bed and he’ll just...remember. Harry’s voice deep and rough, his breathing ragged, his cock so hard and wet. They haven’t done anything like that since, both too busy with their families to have a moment to, but it’s okay. He’s not ashamed to admit that he has a good wank to it every single night (and Harry is delighted to hear it when Louis tells him so).

Of course, all good things must come to an end, and all too soon it’s time to back up his car and head back to Leeds. He’d been planning on staying another day, but he and Harry make the decision a week into their vacation to head back early.

The official reason that they tell their families is that there is a snow storm headed their way that could make driving difficult.

The real reason is that they want to see each other, and kind of want the flat to themselves before Niall and Liam return too.

Neither live far from Leeds and they plan to leave accordingly so they’ll both make it back to the flat at about the same time. Louis is antsy the whole drive back, never being able to settle on a radio station and generally feeling like he’s crawling out of his skin. He feels like it’s been months since he’s seen Harry, even though they talked every day, so much so that his mum had asked him if he and Harry were more than friends and he’d hedged on answering. His non answer had probably been answer enough, but he doesn’t want to just go blabbing the state of their relationship without really talking to Harry about it first.

Louis gets back to the flat first. It smells musty, its two weeks of disuse obviously not doing much for it. He opens a few of the window a crack to let some fresh air in, even though it makes the cold flat even colder. He heaves his bags back to his room, tossing dirty clothes into his hamper, and goes into the kitchen to put on the kettle. Harry should be back soon, and he wants to have tea ready. He also plugs in Liam’s old iPod, a relic he’d donated to the flat so they always could have music at the ready.

The kettle has just begun to whistle when Louis hears the lock turn in the door to the flat. Seconds later, it swings open.

Harry spots Louis immediately and more or less kicks his bags into the flat, slamming it shut behind him. He doesn’t even take off his coat before crossing the short distance into the kitchen and pulling Louis into a hug. Louis isn’t embarrassed at all when Harry lifts him up and spins them around. He giggles into his neck like a little kid and doesn’t even mind when Harry’s freezing hands snake up the back of his shirt, cooling his warm skin.

“Hey babe,” he says on a laugh as Harry sets him back down. He leans up and kisses him once on the lips, then once on his red nose.

“Hi,” Harry says back, smiling so wide it looks like his cheeks will break. He pushes Louis back so he’s arm’s-length away and looks him over with appreciative eyes. “You look even better than the last time I saw you.”

“Technically you saw me yesterday,” Louis says, referencing them Facetiming before bed last night.

“So? You still look better,” Harry teases. “Fuck, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, love,” Louis replies. He kisses Harry again, soft and lingering. It warms up every bit of him, even though Harry’s lips taste like the cold and he’s still wearing his puffy winter coat that’s still freezing from the outside.

“Mmm,” Harry hums happily against Louis’ lips. “Missed this too.”

Louis pecks him once before separating, smiling at him with a smile he knows his sisters or Niall or even Liam would give him endless shit for. “I made tea,” he offers.

“Did you?” Harry visibly brightens. “I’m fucking freezing.”

Louis laughs. “I figured you would be. C’mon, take off your coat and drop your bags in your room. I’ll fix you a cuppa.”

“Okay,” Harry agrees easily. Then, like he can’t help it, he kisses Louis again. “Be right back.”

Louis passes the next few minutes by setting to work on the tea, dunking the bags in the hot water and fixing Harry’s the way he likes it (the wrong way): a few spoonfuls of sugar and a splash of milk. He’s just walked into the living room with the cups when Harry emerges from his room. Louis sits down on the sofa and sets their tea on the coffee table. He scoots to one side of the sofa and beckons Harry with a hand. Harry comes easily, not wasting a moment before climbing on top of Louis like an overgrown cat and nuzzling into him.

“You smell good,” Harry says into his neck.

“What is your obsession with the way I smell?” Louis teases, bringing a hand up to run through Harry’s tangled curls.

“Just like it,” Harry says by way of answering.

Louis accepts that answer and continues to scrape his fingers through Harry’s hair, running his fingers through the knots and detangling the strands. He could swear Harry almost starts purring.

“How was the drive?” Louis asks softly, letting Harry nuzzle into him even more.

“Okay,” Harry replies. “It started to flurry a bit as I was walking inside so I’m glad we beat the snow.”

Louis hums in reply and keeps quiet, enjoying the moment. He doesn’t know how many minutes pass in silence as he holds Harry. Harry has already started to warm up, his soft black jumper smooth and toasty under his fingertips as he rubs a circle into Harry’s hip. Harry looks like he has no intention of moving any time soon, even when Louis tugs gently on his hair to bring Harry’s face to his. Harry accepts his kiss with a grin and a little laugh, pressing in closer to Louis even though there’s no space to be had, letting their legs tangle together.

He doesn’t mean for it to become heated, but soon he feels Harry start to rut against him imperceptibly. Harry’s mouth opens under his, his tongue darting out to slip into Louis’ mouth as he brings his hands to Louis’ hips to grip him tight. Louis can feel Harry’s fingers burn into his skin as he pushes up Louis’ shirt, rucking up the material as he toys with the waistband of Louis’ jeans. Louis can feel himself begin to harden when Harry twists his hips and presses up against him in just the right way, can feel Harry’s lips, hot and insistent, drag from his lips to his jaw and down his neck.

“ _Harry_ ,” he moans when Harry begins to nibble at a sensitive spot on his jaw. “Harry, fuck.”

“Missed you, Lou,” Harry says against his skin, teeth dragging over the sensitive spot below his ear. “Missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” Louis gasps out when Harry bites into his neck.

“Missed touching you,” Harry adds on, snaking his hands further up Louis’ sides and settling them on his ribcage.

“Me too,” Louis replies.

Harry kisses his way around to the front of Louis’ neck, hovering along his Adam’s apple before beginning his assault there. He peppers Louis’ skin with kisses and little bites, teeth just grazing the skin. Louis feels hot all over, his shirt is too hot and his jeans are too tight and every piece of him is covered in Harry.

He barely hears Harry ask him if he can take his shirt off, but he quickly nods and the next thing he knows, his chest exposed to Harry’s eager mouth. Harry doesn’t waste any time before he starts kissing and biting his way down Louis chest. He places a kiss over a nipple, running his tongue over the sensitive nub and biting into it gently. He arches his back, silently asking for more. Harry obliges, biting into it a little bit harder before soothing the bite with his warm tongue. He continues his way down, rubbing his fingers into Louis’ hips as he makes his way down. Louis squeezes his eyes shut when Harry bites into his hip, no doubt leaving a bruise there, and hears himself babble a litany of gasps, words like _Harry_ and _yes_ and _more,_ the only noise in the silent flat.

When Harry reaches the waistband of his jeans, he licks a stripe along the fabric and tongues just below it. He kisses Louis’ belly and settles his lips there for a moment before dragging his mouth back up. When he reaches Louis’ lips again, he lifts a hand to cup Louis’ face and tug him in close. With his mouth against Louis, he asks in a low voice, “Can I do something?”

Louis can’t quite manage to breathe properly with Harry’s lips still on his but he manages to pant out a “Yes,” not even bothering to ask what that something is.

He gets a pretty good idea, though, when he feels Harry grin and kiss his way back down his chest. When Harry reaches the top of his jeans, Louis opens his eyes and looks down. The sight almost has him groan. Harry is between his legs and his long fingers are popping up the button of his jeans and tugging the zip down.

Harry doesn’t immediately make to tug them off. Instead, he tugs the waistband down just a bit to get at the sensitive skin that’s not exposed. It’s only then that he fits his fingers beneath the tops of Louis’ jeans and boxers and begins to tug. Louis is with the program enough to help by lifting his hips so Harry can pull them down his thighs. Harry doesn’t pause once, keeps pulling until he can tug them from Louis’ ankles and toss them to the floor.

When Louis looks down again, it’s to the sight of Harry’s mouth hovering over his cock that is now resting hard and flushed on his belly. Harry blows a hot breath over him and Louis stifles a moan into the back of the sofa.

Harry licks a single stripe up Louis’ cock before retreating, his mouth darting down to suck a bruise to Louis’ exposed thigh. Louis can’t stop the moan that escapes this time, a broken groan escaping from his mouth before he can think to turn his head again.

This only seems to spur Harry on, though. Louis can feel the vibrations in his skin when Harry says against his thigh, “I want to hear you.”

Fuck, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but it is and Louis can’t help moaning when Harry begins to suck a bruise into his other thigh. His cock lays neglected and aching against his belly and Louis wants to touch, wants to snake a hand down to stroke himself, but he somehow knows that’s not what Harry wants.

“Please,” he groans, “baby, please.”

Harry lifts his mouth from his skin and says, “Look at me, Louis.”

Louis looks down and heaves a breath when he sees Harry’s eyes blown black, a purple bruise darkening on his inner thigh, the wetness pooling on his belly from precome.

“Do you want my mouth?” Harry asks.

“Yes, please,” Louis moans and shuts his eyes again.

He gasps when he feels Harry’s lips settle around the head of his cock, the way Harry tongues at the slit like he’s licking up all the precome. Louis reaches down to his chest and tugs at his nipples, pinching them between his fingers as Harry’s hot, wet mouth sinks lower on his cock. He groans and arches his back, his thighs spread wide and pinned down by Harry’s hands. Harry digs his fingernails into the skin, barely touching the bruises he left with his mouth. Louis’ head collapses back into the couch and he whines.

“Yes, perfect,” he says. “So good, Harry.”

Harry hums around him and sinks lower, the vibrations shooting right though every one of Louis’ nerve endings. He pinches his nipples harder and pants, mind short-circuiting as he feels Harry’s tongue run along the vein on the underside of his cock.

He jumps just a bit when he feels one of Harry’s hands run up his side and grab his hand. He opens his eyes and sees Harry looking at him from below his eyelashes, eyes watching every one of Louis’ movements. He understands, though, when Harry tugs his hand down and rests it in his hair.

He groans again at that, gives an experimental scratch with his fingernails against Harry’s scalp and he almost comes from the groan Harry gives out in response.

“Fuck,” Louis moans. He can’t believe this, can’t believe he’s got this wonderful boy doing this for him. He scratches Harry’s scalp again and tugs just a bit on his hair, grabbing for purchase as Harry’s hand goes back to massaging his thighs and pressing down on the bruises he left.

It sneaks up on him before he’s prepared for it. The pleasure pooling in his stomach bubbles closer to the surface. He can feel himself starting to gasp harder, his fingers wrapping around Harry’s curls and tugging.

“Harry, baby,” he moans, “I’m gonna come. Please.”

Harry pulls off for just a second to say, “Want you to. Come on,” and then he dips down again.

It’s Harry taking him all the way down, Louis’ cock hitting the back of his throat, that finally sends Louis over the edge. He cries out as he feels the first spurt of come hit the back of Harry’s throat. Harry pulls back just a bit to let Louis finish, continuing to suck him as Louis finishes coming in his mouth. He keeps sucking until he’s satisfied he’s gotten it all, and then presses a gentle kiss to the tip before pulling off completely.

Louis is completely spent, his chest heaving as he comes down and looks up to see Harry lifting himself from the end of the couch and climbing back up to Louis. He smiles down at Louis and kisses him on the forehead, against his overheated and sweaty skin.

Louis wraps a hand around the back of Harry’s neck and kisses him. Harry’s jumper rubs against his skin and Harry’s jeans press into his sensitive cock. He can feel that Harry is still hard.

“Did you like that?” Harry asks quietly, voice sounding a little bit self-conscious.

Louis runs his fingers over Harry’s cheeks, presses into them where he knows the dimples are until Harry’s grinning. His eyes are so bright, so green. He’s flushed and his lips are bright red and swollen and he’s never looked more beautiful.

“I loved that,” Louis whispers. “And I’m gonna do that to you, soon.”

Harry giggles. “Are you, now?”

“Yup,” Louis says, finally feeling his heart start to slow again.

“Should I, you know. Finish myself off?” Harry asks, He grinds against Louis a little to make his point.

“Uh uh,” Louis tsks. He reaches down and palms Harry through his jeans. “Gonna finish you off right now.”

“You don’t have to,” Harry replies, but he gasps when Louis presses his hand hard into his groin.

“I want to,” Louis says. “Want you to come in my hand.”

“Fuck, okay,” Harry says. He leans back just enough for Louis to open his jeans and pull his cock out, all finesse completely gone.

Louis runs a finger over the head and gathers the precome there. He wants to look down, wants to see how pretty Harry’s cock is when it’s hard and aching, but he’d rather look at Harry more. He focuses in on reading Harry’s reactions, the way his eyes fall shut when Louis runs a finger down the shaft. The way his lips part and he gasps little breathes when Louis begins to stroke him in earnest. The choked-off moan when Louis squeezes the base and twists his hand as he brings his hand back up to the tip. He watches the sweat bead at Harry’s hairline and along his neck, the way he starts to thrust into Louis’ fist.

“Harder,” Harry grits out. “Please, Lou.”

Louis jerks him harder, and Harry’s thrusts pick up. Louis realizes that Harry is fucking his hand, realizes that this is how Harry sounds when he’s fucking and it’s almost enough to get him hard again.

It’s when Louis presses his finger into the slit that Harry comes, his moan loud and echoing off the walls of their flat. He comes over Louis’ hand and his chest and shudders through it, lips somehow finding Louis’ as he finishes coming and then slumps down on top of him.

Louis cards his hands through Harry’s hair as he begins to breathe normally, fingers gentle as they run through the curls. It’s a few more seconds before Harry lifts up and smiles up at him.

“I swear your fingers are magic.”

Louis laughs and drops his head back to the couch. “I think your mouth is magic.”

“So what you’re saying,” Harry says slowly, voice drawling and rough, “is that we make magic together?”

For not the first time, that day or ever, Louis can’t believe that Harry Styles exists.

“You could say that,” Louis replies, not even bothering to try to hide how his smile grows the more excited Harry looks. “I think we’re magic, yeah.”

“Me too,” Harry agrees eagerly, and then settles back down on Louis chest. Into his skin, Louis almost doesn’t hear him say, “I hope it’s okay but I told mum you’re my boyfriend.”

Louis smiles to the ceiling. He can feel his eyes crinkling as he replies, “Of course it’s okay, ‘cause I am your boyfriend.”

Harry’s response is a soft kiss to Louis’ chest.

They doze there, right on the couch, Louis completely naked but kept warm from the wind coming through the still-cracked windows by Harry’s toasty, clothed body covering his completely.

Later that night, Louis makes good on his promise and coaxes Harry to a writhing, beautiful mess with his mouth, eager fingers pressing into his overheated skin and tongue working Harry’s cock like an instrument until he’s coming down Louis’ throat.

They both agree they’ll figure out how to clean the sofa tomorrow.

\----

They mutually agree to never tell Niall and Liam about the couch (or the table), ever. They also agree to wait out the boys until they figure it out, just for shits and giggles.

Harry starts dinner after his series of texts with Niall telling him that he’d be running late from the snow and would really love to have dinner ready on the table ready for him. Harry isn’t quite sure when Niall started treating Harry like a housewife but Niall’s cooking is something no one should be subjected to. Liam had sent a text too, promising he’d be home for dinner.

Naturally, Harry and Louis had taken advantage of the quiet, empty apartment a few more times.

The lads are due back soon and Harry is in the kitchen with Louis preparing their food. Harry looks over at Louis, who is sitting on the counter feet swinging as he haphazardly stirs the pot of chili for dinner.

He unwraps some butter and watches Louis laugh at a story he’s telling about Doris and Ernie over the break, and Harry thinks that this is the happiest he’s ever been.

Louis is just sort of great to just sit and admire what he’s like, is all.

Harry snaps out of it when the timer dings loudly on his phone, causing Louis to yell entirely too loudly considering they’re less than six feet apart.

“Bread is done, Curly! Take it out of the oven before Niall beats you with it!”

Harry laughs, “I’m not sure Niall is going to beat me over toasted bread.”

Louis throws him a look. “I’m very sure Niall would beat you over toasted bread.”  


The door of the flat swings open, revealing a snow covered Liam, bags over his shoulders. He looks exhausted.

“Lima my boy! We missed you!” Louis calls.

Liam looks at them for a moment, brown eyes the only thing uncovered from his scarf and hat. He narrows his eyes slightly, looking back and forth between them before nodding and saying, “Hello, boys. I’ll be back.”

Harry sighs. He’s going to get snow all along the hallway. “Don’t track snow everywhere!”

Liam groans, followed by the sound of a series of bags hitting the floor and his door shutting.

Louis leans forward, eyes curious. “Did he know already? That fast?”

Harry shrugs as he hears Liam’s drawers open and shut, “I don’t think so? Liam is just really crabby after he travels. And I mean we just looked at each other. Are we that bad already?”

Louis gives him a smile that’s a little devilish. “Probably, sweetums. We’re that couple. Gross people out just by their presence.” Louis pauses, putting his hand to his chin. “Or maybe he just smells the couch.”

Harry swats at Louis. “Get the table ready you git. Come on.”

They set the table together, and by the time that Niall barrels in, the table is ready, the food is ready, and Liam has emerged from his unpacking ritual looking slightly more human. He even gave them a hug in greeting.

Niall throws his bags and coat in his room before coming to the table.

“Well!” Niall shouts loudly, “How the fuck are you guys? It’s been so long!”

“Fucking hell, Niall. It was a long trip back and you’re literally shouting,” Liam grumbles unhappily.

Niall pinches his cheeks. “Oh Liam, I forgot how sweet you are after a long drive.”

Liam punches him in the arm.

Niall takes that as an excuse to dive into every story he possibly has about his trip home, including every drunken adventure (there’s a lot) and every sports match he went to (just as much as the drunken adventures probably). In fact, Louis is getting the vibe that those occasions were pretty much happening simultaneously.

They trade stories eagerly, and even Liam gets excited as he shares his story about his sister’s wedding and how Trevor surprised him as his date after telling him he’d be flying home to America and staying for the whole break.

Harry didn’t even realize they had been sitting there for hours until the conversation hits a lull.

“So,” Niall begins, matter of fact and with a twinkle in his eye. “What in the flat do I have to sanitize?” he asks pointedly, looking between Harry and Louis.

“What?” Liam, Louis, and Harry ask at the exact same time.

“Liam, come on. They’re clearly fucking.” Niall turns to Liam, who stares distraughtly right back at him. “Liam! They were both here when we came back.”

Liam still hasn’t caught on, eyes wide staring between Harry and Louis and then back at Niall.

“Liam. Harry has a love bite the size of Europe on his neck.” Niall points to Harry’s neck.

Harry squeaks and covers it, before turning to Louis. “You said you didn’t leave a mark!”

“A-ha!” Niall yells. “I fucking knew it!”

Louis laughs wildly, before giving Niall a high five. “Come on, love. You know they’re a bit slow. Had to make it obvious for them.”

Niall has the decency to look offended, meanwhile Liam just smiles, albeit it a little shocked.

“When did this happen lads? Wait. Did this happen over break? Did you even go home? Please tell me you didn’t fuck in my bed,” Liam trails off. “Wait! You were making out! On the floor! Before break! Weren’t you?” Liam asks accusingly.

Harry cackles and blushes as Louis tells them both the very dirty details of how they got together (even when Liam told him very seriously to stop giving details).

It’s so worth it though when Niall cheers loudly and tells them that he knew it would happen all along, and he takes credit for helping them get together with his brilliant plans.

(The kisses they get for it, though, they could have done without.)

\----

The next two weeks pass in a whirl. Harry gets his hands on Louis whenever possible, resulting in way too many awkward encounters with Liam or Niall with his cock out. He learns every inch of Louis’ skin, where he’s ticklish, the spots that make him gasp out the most, the sensitive spots on his belly and thighs and neck that have him moaning in his ear.

But more importantly he learns how hard he gets from Louis experimentally tugging his hair or pressing down on bruises he already made. He learns how much he wants Louis to pin him down and suck him off, not letting him move an inch. He learns how much he desperately loves Louis giving him a direction and the reaction Louis has when he does it, like he can’t believe Harry is real.

He also learns how much he wants to be fucked by Louis. He had known it before, but with two weeks of _Louis_ , _Louis_ , _Louis_ , Harry just really wants to be fucked. He’s felt how hard and hot Louis gets when they’re together, has tasted him, felt him on his tongue and he can only imagine what he’d feel like inside him. The problem is, he knows they can’t fuck with Niall and Liam in the flat. They’ve done just about everything with them in the flat, always interrupting and killing the mood. But Harry knows if he’s got Louis’ fingers and the promise of Louis’ cock, that he will physically be unable to stop until they’re both coming.

Niall and Liam refuse to understand and/or leave for long periods of time, though. Harry thinks they might be doing it on purpose. They’ve had three lads nights, and Trevor’s heating had been broken, leaving Liam and Trevor to stay at their flat.

But tonight, tonight they finally get the flat to themselves. Trevor’s heating is fixed, and Niall is out for a trivia night at the local pub.

They’re finally alone.

Louis wastes no time practically pouncing on Harry as soon as Niall leaves the flat.

“Thought they’d never fucking leave,” he says breathlessly in between kisses, Harry hoisting him up onto his hips and carrying him to his room.

“Need you to fuck me,” Harry mumbles back, before diving into the kiss with a new force, bumping into the walls as they make their way back to Harry’s room.

“Gonna fuck you babe, been waiting for so long. Can’t wait to get my fingers in you.” Louis bites down Harry’s jaw, all the way to his ear, making Harry groan.

  
He’s already hard, just from Louis’ promise of fucking him. He doesn’t know how he’ll survive the actual fucking.

He closes and locks his door, just in case, while Louis continues to bite and lick at his neck. He paces him down gently, but it gives Louis full range to pull off Harry’s shirt and shove him backwards onto the bed roughly.

Harry takes off Louis’ shirt quickly, before moving to Louis’ jeans. Louis pulls his hand away.

“Take off your jeans,” Louis tells him. “I’ve got mine. C’mon babe.”

Harry feels desperate with it, and he can tell Louis is right there with him, sweat beading at his forehead as they both finally, finally, get naked. Harry lets himself enjoy this, the sight of Louis naked and flushed and all his. His heart pounds at the sight of Louis pink skin, the tattoos that litter his body, his mussed hair.

Louis climbs over Harry, straddling him and kissing him, tongue sweeping across Harry’s bottom lip.

“God, you’re so lovely. So, so lovely,” Louis kisses Harry one more time, before sitting up from his lap and placing a trail of kisses down Harry’s chest. He grinds against Harry once, their cocks brushing together and leaving Harry breathless.

“Gonna suck you now. Play with your nipples,” Louis directs as he moves down Harry's chest. He swallows Harry down in one go and Harry gasps, his rough breaths loud in the otherwise silent room.

Harry obeys, squeezing and pulling at his nipples one at a time, leaving him whimpering. Louis is relentless on him, his tongue running along the vein and his lips suckling at the end. He’s so focused on the hot heat of Louis’ mouth, the press of Louis’ hand on his hip to stop him from jerking up, and his own hands on his nipples that he doesn’t notice Louis’ other hand, until the pad of his finger is pressed up against his hole. He hadn't even realized Louis had somehow gotten lube.

“Louis,” Harry gasps. “Please.”

Louis pulls off for a moment. “Look at me, babe,” Louis waits until Harry’s eyes are on him. “‘m gonna give you what you want, love. Don’t worry.”

Louis sucks him down again, head bobbing as Harry grips the sheets, moaning loudly when Louis’ finger presses in. It's warm and solid and wet and Harry clenches down, desperate to draw it in. The drag of his finger is absolutely fantastic with Louis’ mouth moving in sync to his finger moving and stroking against his walls.

“Another. Another, please,” Harry begs, as he lets his legs fall open a little more. He wrenches his eyes open and looks down. Louis looks amazing between his thighs and Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever tire from the sight, his mouth stretched around his cock and Louis’ hand disappearing down as he thrusts into him.

Louis adds another finger, mouth insistent and fingers moving quickly, keeping Harry gasping for air. Harry’s eyes fall shut again and he groans, his head twisting into the pillow as he whines. He keeps tugging on his nipples, the nubs red and abused. He feels himself rocking back and forth, wanting Louis deeper in him but chasing the delicious heat of his mouth as he sucks him.

Louis soon adds a third, making Harry plead for it harder, and faster. The stretch is amazing, Louis’ fingers twisting and stroking inside of him making him feel incredibly full already.

It happens suddenly. Louis hits his prostate and Harry sees stars. He cries out and grabs hold of the sheets, clenching them in his fists as Louis massages the spot with his fingers.

“Need you in me right now. C’mon Lou. Need you.” Harry pulls at Louis’ shoulders until Louis pulls off his cock. His lips are red and wet. He doesn't pull out his fingers as he leans over Harry. Louis kisses him one more time, absolutely filthy.

Against Harry's lips he says, “Are you ready for me, babe?”

“Yes,” Harry begs. He's ready, feels like he's been ready for hours. His skin feels stretched too thin. The room is too hot, and Louis is still pressing down on his prostate with maddening little touches that punch the air right out of his chest.

“I want to hear you,” Louis says softly. “Are you gonna be loud for me?”

“Yes!” Harry says. “Please, Lou. Fuck me.”

Louis leans down and kisses him again, soft and wet. He slowly pulls his fingers out and Harry feels terribly empty. He watches Louis reach next to him and grab a condom. The sound of the tearing wrapper is the only noise aside from their heavy breaths. He watches as Louis slides the condom on and pours some lube into his hand, slicking himself up.

Finally, Louis leans forward and lines himself up. Harry wraps his legs around Louis, and Louis takes that as permission to press in. It's slow, terribly slow. Louis inches his way in, the burn making Harry's head fuzzy even as he runs his hands down Louis’ back, damp with sweat. When Louis finally bottoms out, Harry sighs and presses his ankles into Louis’ hips. Louis kisses him again, more a mess of lips panting against each other than anything, but Harry can't get enough. Their breaths come out in puffs against each other’s lips as Louis waits for the go-ahead to move.

Once Harry’s finally got his breath controlled as much as he can, he nods his head jerkily, before gripping the back of Louis’ neck and kissing him hard.

Louis starts fucking into him slowly, the drag torturous.

“So perfect,” Louis chants as he thrusts into Harry. “You feel so perfect, baby.” He keeps his thrusts deep and slow, the pace measured as he pulls almost all the way out before he pushes back in.

“Please, Lou,” Harry begs.

Louis sucks Harry’s ear into his mouth as Harry digs his heels into Louis’ back, urging him to move faster, take him deeper.

“Want me to fuck you harder, huh, babe?” Louis pants out into Harry’s ear.

“Please,” Harry whines.

“Okay, baby. I’ll fuck you harder.”

Louis raises himself up and snaps his hips harder. He sets a brutal pace, thighs slapping Harry’s bum loudly, making the sound resonate throughout the bedroom.

Harry’s whines are loud as Louis fucks into him. He scrapes his nails down Louis’ back, his own back arching as Louis thrusts deep into him and pushes him up the bed. He cries out when Louis adjusts the angle and finally finds his prostate again.

“You sound so amazing, Harry. Feel so good around me. Can’t believe I’m so lucky,” Louis gasps out in between thrusts.

“Louis,” he moans. “Fuck, right there. Right there.”

Louis never falters. “Wanna hear you, babe,” he says as he keeps going, keeps nailing his prostate on every thrust. Harry cries out again when he feels Louis lick over one of his nipples.

“Yes, so good,” Louis praises. “You're so good, Harry.”

Harry’s heart beats louder than it should. His stomach tenses and he can feel his orgasm start to swell.

Louis must be able to tell, because he slinks his hand forward, gripping Harry’s cock tightly.

“C’mon, love,” he kisses Harry, tongue finding every inch of Harry’s mouth. “Want to see you come, baby. You wanted to come from my cock so much. I know you did. And now you can have it. Know you’ve been waiting for it. C’mon baby.”

“Louis,” Harry shakes, crying out. He feels his legs trembling, squeezing Louis’ back desperately as his brain starts to short-circuit. He can feel his cock leaking, feels Louis’ hand gliding up and down. It only takes a few more strokes and Louis thrusting deep, grinding against his prostate, before he's coming between them hotly. Louis continues to stroke him as he comes all over his chest and Louis’ hand.

Harry clenches around Louis so hard, voice shot as he moans his release, that it takes Louis about three more thrusts before he’s spilling into the condom. He cries out a broken “ _Harry_ ” and thrusts a few more times gently as he rides out his release. Finally, he stills and collapses on top of Harry. He stays there for a moment before pulling out, Harry wincing a bit with oversensitivity, and tossing the condom into the bin next to the bed. He's shaking a bit himself as he climbs back across the bed and turns into Harry, running a hand over his hot, sweaty skin.

“Wow,” Harry kisses Louis, sweetly this time. “Didn’t think we could get any more magic than hands and mouths.”

Louis laughs. Harry watches as Louis runs a hand over his belly, through the ropes of come he'd spilled there. “Yeah? That was just as magical for you?”

Harry smiles. “The most magical I’ve ever had.”

Louis leans in and settles himself on Harry’s chest, sweat finally starting to cool on their skin. “Well, just you wait for round two.”

Harry’s laugh is loud, but he swears nothing is more magical than Louis Tomlinson in his arms.


	3. Spring Semester

Louis has been driving himself mad the last few days. Spring classes started up almost immediately after finals and after his and Harry's wonderful, mind-blowing night together they'd both had to hit the ground running studying and preparing for exams. The contrast between Harry during midterms and finals was jarring. He'd been much more relaxed, much calmer. Part of it is probably because he didn't also have his internship to worry about this time around, though Louis also thinks that their frequent study breaks to snog and tease each other helped too.

Now, though, it's Harry's birthday, and Louis is sure nothing he does can compete with the Build-A-Bear that Harry surprised him with. It was thoughtful, it was adorable, and it was a completely Harry gift.

Louis has never thought of himself as a particularly good gift-giver, relying on people telling him what they want so he can just go get it, but he wants to do something special for Harry.

Harry’s birthday is on a Sunday, and Louis literally does not think of it until the Friday before. He’s lounging on his bed, waiting for Harry to get home from his late afternoon class, when he thinks of it. A rerun of The Great British Bake-Off is playing on the tellie and it just sort of hits Louis. His brain wanders to that afternoon he and Harry had sat in the living room together, munching on popcorn and watching the show together.

He remembers Harry talking about making a souffle when he worked at the bakery, and the shit-eating grin on his face as he told Louis it was banana. When he thinks of it, it seems like the perfect idea - unless he fucks it up.

It requires him to slip out of the flat on Saturday to run to the shops to buy the ingredients after he’d Googled for a recipe that didn’t look like it was written in code. Harry is busy doing some reading for class so Louis takes his chance, telling him he’s going to the park to meet Joe for a game of football and giving him a kiss goodbye. When he gets back, he stores everything in Liam’s closet.

It also requires him to wake up early on Sunday morning, way earlier than he normally would on a weekend day. As in, seven o’clock in the morning early. He wants to get started and finish before Harry wakes up, and even when Harry has a “lie-in” he’s usually up before ten.

He mentions the plan to Liam and Niall and they think it’s just about the sweetest thing on the planet, cooing and pinching his cheeks and telling him Harry will love it. Louis just hopes he’ll love it even if he burns it.

The universe seems to be on his side, though, because he finishes mixing up the batter just under ten minutes before Harry strolls into the kitchen, pajama bottoms low on his hips, shirtless, and his curls in disarray all over his head. He smiles when he sees Louis at the kitchen sink, elbows deep in water as he scrubs up the last of the dishes he’d used. He comes up behind Louis and rests his chin on his shoulder, kissing his neck and smiling.

“You’re up early,” he comments, nuzzling into Louis’ skin.

“Yup,” Louis agrees. He twists his head around and gives Harry a soft kiss. “Happy birthday, love.”

Harry smiles. “Thank you.” He blushes and nuzzles Louis’ neck again. “I thought we could have a lie-in together.”

Louis chuckles. “Believe me, I don’t plan on letting you leave the bed for the rest of the day. There’s just something I had to do first.”

“What’s that?” Harry asks, pulling away and fixing his bright green eyes on Louis.

“It’s a surprise,” Louis grins as he turns off the tap. He twists around and reaches for a hand towel to dry his hands before he drops it and rests his hands on Harry’s waist. “But I can’t show you until later.”

“Hmm,” Harry replies, “does it involve sex?”

Louis laughs fully at that. “Not strictly, no, though if we got inventive it probably could.”

Harry pouts and Louis leans in and kisses him again, all warmth and affection and comfort. It feels like he’s meant to have his lips against Harry’s at all times, feels like he can breathe better even when Harry leaves him breathless. He digs his fingers into soft skin of Harry’s waist and rests their foreheads together.

“You mentioned something about a bed,” Harry mumbles into the close space between them, their lips still hovering just apart from each other.

“I did,” Louis confirms, “though first, I’m taking you to lunch.”

Harry glances up to the microwave clock. “It’s barely ten.”

“Brunch, then,” Louis replies, kissing him again. He can’t help but giggle when Harry tries to deepen the kiss and pushes him so he’s pinned between the counter and Harry himself. “Baby, I promise, but let me take you out first.”

Harry huffs but steps back. “It’s my birthday,” he protests.

“Which is _why_ I’m taking you out.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you wouldn’t take me out if it wasn’t my birthday?” Harry teases, a wicked glint in his eyes and a teasing quirk of his mouth. “You’re too kind.”

“Harold, you’re insufferable,” Louis answers before grabbing Harry by the back of his neck and pulling him in for a searing kiss, one that runs through his body down to his toes, licks up his spine and makes him feel like he’s burning up from the inside out.

Harry hums happily when Louis scratches at his scalp lightly and curls his fingers around the wavy strands of hair.

“That was just a preview,” Louis says quietly. “But first, brunch.”

Harry rolls his eyes and lets Louis gently push him away. He doesn’t complain again as they dress and bundle up, though Louis does let himself be pulled into more kisses because every time Harry wants one, he keeps muttering, “But it’s my birthday, Louis.”

Louis would have given him all those kisses even if it wasn’t.

They end up at a posh little restaurant down the street that is a strange hybrid of French and American food. They pick at pastries and drink coffee and play footsie under the table. Louis smears the chocolate from a chocolate croissant over Harry’s lips and Harry rebuttals by mashing some whipped cream onto Louis’ cheeks. Louis’ comment that if Harry wanted to see his face covered in white they could just head back to the bathroom now has Harry laughing so hard that he spits coffee all over their pristine white table cloth.

By the time they make it back to the flat, Liam, Trevor, and Niall are all hovering in their kitchen eating cereal. They jump up immediately when they see Harry and pull him into hugs, ruffling his hair and kissing his cheeks (and lips, because Niall is weird like that), and telling him that he doesn’t look a day over twenty one (a joke that just delights Harry).

“We’re on for drinks later this week, right?” Trevor asks as they all sit around their kitchen table, the other lads finishing their cereal.

They all thought it would be fun to go out on Friday night to celebrate Harry’s birthday properly, giving them time to settle into the spring semester before they go crazy with work.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees easily, smiling when Louis reaches under the table and rests a hand on his thigh. “I can’t wait.”

“Good,” Niall says, rubbing his palms together. “It’s going to be brilliant. I heard that there’s some first year party happening on campus and we can pregame there for free.”

They all laugh and agree that, if they can manage to pull it off without getting kicked out, they’ll pregame with a bunch of first year university students.

Louis and Harry sit with the rest of the boys for a bit, giving Harry time to respond to texts and Facebook messages from friends and his family wishing him a happy birthday. When they retreat to Louis’ bedroom, it’s to Louis calling over his shoulder that everyone is on their own for dinner since there is no way Harry is cooking on his birthday.

When Harry climbs on top of Louis as they lay down on their bed, grinding against him gently, it takes every ounce of willpower in him to draw Harry in for a kiss but not grind back.

“Not yet, babe,” Louis grits out.

Harry groans and grinds down again, his cock starting to tent his jeans. “Seriously? Why?”

“Because I have a plan, Curly, and you’re ruining it,” Louis replies, though he allows himself to run a hand up under Harry’s shirt, rucking up the material as he rubs his belly.

“But I want you now,” Harry says. “You said you weren’t going to let me leave the bed all day.”

“Ah, but I didn’t say what we would be doing, did I?” Louis says back and grins when Harry huffs out a sigh.

“You’re seriously going to deny me birthday sex?” Harry asks, eyes growlling wide. He’s trying to pull his puppy dog look, and Louis can’t have that.

“I said not yet,” Louis replies, tugging Harry down to kiss him. He grinds back once, giving Harry just a taste, before he pulls back. Then, he whispers, “I’m gonna fuck you so hard later.” He reaches out and palms Harry’s bum to prove his point.

Harry sighs again and rolls off of Louis, staring up to the ceiling. “I’m gonna be hard for the rest of the day.”

Louis laughs and says, “Well, let’s do something to take your mind off of it then.”

That something turns out to be Netflix and Chinese food for a late lunch/early dinner. True to his word, Louis doesn’t let Harry leave the bed. He retrieves the food from the delivery guy and brings it back to his room, balancing the bags of food, two beers, and cutlery (God knows neither of them can use chopsticks and he doesn’t fancy rice all over his bed) in his arms.

They feed each other food, giggling around fried rice, chicken, and vegetables. They end up dropping it on Louis’ bed anyway.

As it gets dark, Louis sends off a text to Liam ( _it’s time, it can go in_ ). Then, Louis wraps Harry up in his arms and they doze to an episode of Friends. He keeps the light low on his nightstand, casting the room in a warm, orange glow. Harry is mostly asleep as the episode finishes, his eyes blinking blearily every so often before drifting shut again. Louis lets him, loves the feel of Harry warm and solid in his arms, loves the way Harry presses his back to Louis’ front and nestles in there. Just as the episode finishes, though, Louis hears a beep sounding in the kitchen. He starts to pepper kisses all along Harry’s neck and shoulders, gently waking him up.

Harry stirs and twists around. He pokes Louis’ chest and says, “I was comfortable.”

“I know, babe,” Louis replies, placating him with a kiss. “But it’s time for your surprise.”

Harry visibly brightens and smiles, dimples cratering his cheeks. “I love surprises.”

Louis laughs and pulls his arms out from where Harry has them securely wrapped around him. “I’ll be right back.”

He hurries into the kitchen and grabs for the dish that is holding his creation, still safe - for the moment - in the oven. He’d told Niall and Liam to please, for the love of God, do not bang around in the kitchen. When he lifts the dish out of the oven, he lets out a breath to see that the souffle he’d baked hadn’t collapsed. He reaches for the tealight he’d hidden in a cabinet and digs around in one of the drawers to find a lighter. He lights the tealight and has the mind to grab for two more forks before he picks everything up and makes his way, slowly, back to his room.

Harry is lying on his back on his bed, shirt riding up and eyes glued to the ceiling. When he sees Louis in the doorway, he lights up. Then he sees what Louis is holding and lets out a loud cackle.

He climbs up to his knees and watches as Louis makes his way to him. “Is that what I think it is?” he asks.

When he’s close enough, Louis replies, “That depends on what you think it is, Harold.”

“It looks like a souffle.” Then, he must pick up on the potent scent of the dessert because he then says, “A banana souffle.”

Louis nods and laughs, holding out the tealight so it’s level with Harry’s face. “Make a wish, baby.”

Harry smiles at him and shakes his head. “I already got my wish.”

Louis has to stop himself from dropping the souffle and the candle, or just flat-out crying. “Well,” he says, voice deep and slightly choked up. “Make another one, then. Once a year, Curly. Don’t waste the opportunity.”

Harry giggles but closes his eyes. A beat later, he blows out the candle. When he opens his eyes again, Louis can’t breathe.

“Perfect,” he says, then rests the candle, smoke still billowing up from the wick, onto his nightstand. “Now, I have no fucking clue how to eat this. I actually don’t know if it’s even going to be edible.”

Harry moves over to give him room, then Louis sets the dish down onto the bed between him. It miraculously doesn’t deflate on them.

“You just eat it,” Harry answers, taking the fork Louis holds out to him. “It looks good.”

“It might be shit,” Louis replies, already fearing that he fucked it up completely. “I tried to follow the recipe but you know I can’t cook, so if it’s bad I’m so sorry.”

Harry waits for Louis to finish his ramble before leaning over and kissing him, effectively shutting him up. Once he’s satisfied Louis won’t start up again, he presses their foreheads together.

“It’s gonna be wonderful,” Harry tells him, “because you made it for me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Louis replies, then braces himself. “Okay, here goes.”

They both dip their forks into the souffle at the same time, the top instantly dropping down, and Louis laughs. He waits for Harry to bring a bite to his mouth and chew before he takes a bite of his own.

It’s...actually, okay. He thinks he might have gone overboard on the banana a bit, and it’s super sweet. It burns his tongue a little, though he thinks that might also be because it was just in the oven less than five minutes ago. The only reaction that matters, though, is Harry’s.

Harry is smiling at him and giggling as Louis gives him a wide-eyed look.

“Well?” Louis asks. “Is it awful?”

Harry shakes his head and starts laughing even more. “It really tastes like banana,” he comments.

“Fuck, I know,” Louis replies. “It was kind of bland when I tasted the batter earlier so I added a bit more but maybe I should have just done what they said.”

Harry is still laughing and he takes another bite. “Why banana?” he asks.

Louis flushes and ducks his head. He doesn’t look up as he says, “Remember that afternoon we watched The Great British Bake-Off together? We ate popcorn and pizza. You were really stressed that day.”

He hears rather than sees Harry stop chewing. “Yeah,” he replies quietly.

“You said you made a banana souffle,” Louis says, “right after you got me hard from deepthroating a banana right next to me.”

Harry cackles out a laugh and claps a hand over his mouth. “Seriously?” he asks. Louis finally looks up and Harry drops his hand, grinning from ear to ear. “ _Louis_.”

“I just thought it was, you know, special,” Louis says, shrugging. “Because I really liked that afternoon.”

“Me too,” Harry answers. He lifts up the dish and places it on Louis’ nightstand right next to the candle, then takes Louis’ fork from him before dropping both forks into the dish. “I really liked that afternoon, too.”

“Was this a dumb idea?” Louis asks, eyeing Harry as he inches closer and brings his hands up to cup Louis’ face. “It’s not a personalized Build-A-Bear, but I thought you’d like it.”

“I _love_ it,” Harry insists, then draws Louis in for a kiss.

Louis can’t help but melt into it, smiling when he feels Harry smile against his mouth. Harry kisses him softly, runs his tongue along Louis’ lips until he opens up. Harry tastes like sugar and banana, his lips are smooth, and Louis presses back harder, wanting more of it all.

The moment is kind of ruined though when Harry starts giggling. Louis pulls back and fixes Harry with a glare. “Seriously, Harold?”

Harry just laughs more. “I’m sorry, babe,” he answers. “It’s just… When I told you I made a banana souffle, I lied.”

Louis’s eyebrows scrunch up and he stares. “What do you mean, you lied?”

“I did make a souffle,” Harry tells him. “That part was true. It just wasn’t a banana one. It was just a regular one. And I think I made a chocolate one once. But I didn’t make a banana.”

“Okay…” Louis says slowly. “Why did you tell me it was banana, then?”

Harry bites his lower lip, worries it between his teeth and lowers his eyes. “‘Cause I saw you watching me eat the banana. Like, out of the corner of my eye I could see you watching and I thought you might be into me. So when you asked, I told you banana because I wanted to see if you’d react. And you did.”

Louis takes a moment to process Harry’s story before he bursts out laughing himself. He runs a hand over his face. “Oh God.”

Harry giggles as he says, “I’m sorry. I think it’s lovely you did this for me. It’s so sweet, Louis.”

Louis just shakes his head before pulling Harry into another kiss. “You’re an asshole,” he says, voice completely fond. He can’t help it.

“I’m sorry,” Harry repeats. He gets a teasing look in his eye when he asks, “Does this mean no birthday sex?”

“ _God_ , you have a one-track mind,” Louis answers, laughing as Harry gives him a mock-innocent face. “No, it doesn’t mean that. It is still your birthday after all.”

“Oh thank God,” Harry replies, running a hand through Louis’ hair. He kisses Louis, hard, lips moving against his as he goes, “Want you to fuck me.”

Louis is certainly not going to say no to that. He takes Harry’s momentary distraction in the form of kissing him to begin to unbutton Harry’s shirt and tug it off. He drops it to the floor before reaching between them to tug at the button on his jeans. Harry makes a pleased noise at that, as Louis pulls the zip down and starts pushing at the waistband. Harry doesn’t stop kissing him even as he lifts up and helps Louis tug his jeans down. He’s just in his boxer briefs now and when Louis palms over his groin, he can feel Harry’s cock start to thicken.

“Yes,” Harry chants, “please.”

Louis rubs him through his pants for a minute, lets Harry continue his assault on his mouth, tugging his lips between his teeth in a wet, rough kiss that leaves Louis hot and panting.

He lets Harry break the kiss long enough to tug Louis’ own shirt over his head and then reach down to unbutton Louis’ own jeans.

“Let me,” he says, and Harry leans back, resting his back to the bed, so Louis can finish pulling down the zip and pull his jeans off. He’s left in his own boxer briefs now, and Harry looks like he’s ready to devour him. His dark curls are fanned over Louis’ pillows and he begins to palm himself through his pants, his cock starting to strain against the fabric.

“Shall I?” Louis asks, grinning. He reaches down and toys with the waistband of Harry’s pants, tugging it away and letting it snap back against his skin.

“Yes, please,” Harry answers. “Yours too.”

Louis makes quick work of tugging off Harry’s pants and then his own until they’re both naked. Harry’s cock is curved up, resting on his belly, and is flushed a pretty pink. A sheen of wetness is already beading at the head.

“You’re so beautiful,” Louis tells him, and he means it. Harry is truly the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He thinks if the Greeks had the chance to carve him, they would. Though no recreation could ever capture the lines of Harry’s body, the curve of his hips, the way his muscles tense and relax as he squirms on the bed, his chest breathing in deep gulps of air as Louis watches him.

Harry turns his face to grin into the pillow. “Look who’s talking.”

Louis climbs over him and straddles him, letting their cocks brush together between them as he leans down to kiss Harry. He runs his fingers over his cheeks, rubs the pads of his fingers over the little stubble forming on his chin. They start to grind together, building a rhythm between them that has them panting into each other’s mouths within a couple of minutes. Louis knows he could come like that, could almost definitely get Harry to come, but that’s not what he wants tonight. He wants to be inside his boy, fuck him until he can't take it.

It takes some effort but Louis manages to pull his hips back gently. Harry whines but Louis hushes him. “It’s okay,” he says quietly. “I’m gonna take care of you.”

Harry blinks up at him and runs a hand along Louis’ chin. “Do you have stuff?”

Louis almost scoffs. “Harold, it’s your birthday. We can’t have birthday sex without supplies.”

Harry laughs and Louis smiles himself as he leans over and pulls open the drawer of his nightstand, fingers wrapping around a bottle of lube and a condom. He feels a warm happiness that this is an element of their sex life, that they can joke and tease each other, that it isn’t all rushed intensity. That they can enjoy this together and still laugh at each other.

Louis drops the condom onto the bed next to Harry and opens up the lube, the snick of the cap echoing around the room. He pours some onto his fingers and reaches down, rubbing the cool liquid around Harry’s entrance. Harry bends a leg to give him better access. Louis then presses the pad of his finger to Harry’s hole and prods it gently. He leans down to kiss Harry as he breaches his entrance and pushes his finger inside.

Harry moans against his lips as Louis starts to thrust his finger. Louis keeps kissing him, lets him adjust to the stretch and loves the feeling of Harry tight and hot around him.

“You can add another,” Harry says, grinding back onto Louis’ finger. “I’m ready.”

Louis pulls his finger out and on the next thrust, pushes in with two fingers. Harry hisses at the stretch and Louis gives him a gentle kiss. He massages Harry’s scalp with his other hand, just the way he knows Harry likes, as he starts to thrust both fingers in and out, scissoring them to open Harry up even more.

They keep kissing, Louis swallowing up Harry’s moans as he stretches him and strokes his walls. Harry grinds back on Louis’ fingers, trying to get them deeper. He groans, long and loud, when Louis twists his fingers and brushes his prostate.

“There,” he moans, “right there, babe.”

Louis twists his fingers again and presses until he feels the little nub. He applies more pressure to it, rubbing it over and over as Harry breathes hot into his mouth.

“Another, Lou,” Harry says.

Louis pulls his fingers out once more and pushes back in with three fingers this time. Harry reaches down to touch his cock, stroking it a couple of times before gripping the base.

“Lou,” he moans, “Louis, I’m gonna come.”

Louis thrusts a few more times, avoiding Harry’s prostate. “Want to make sure you’re stretched, love.”

“I’m stretched,” Harry says back.

“Want you nice and open for me,” Louis tells him. “Almost there.”

Harry drops his head back further into the pillows and lets Louis finger him open for another minute. Once he’s satisfied, Louis pulls his fingers out. He reaches over Harry’s body to grab the condom, his fingers slippery on the wrapper.

“Let me,” Harry says, and he takes the condom from Louis’ hands. He rips it open easily and Louis leans up onto his knees. Harry slides the condom over his cock, the first touch Louis’ had all night and Louis gasps out. He lets Harry pour some lube over his cock and coat it.

Louis climbs over Harry and settles between his thighs. He pushes Harry’s legs up so they’re both bent. He brushes his fingers over Harry’s forehead, pushing the curls back. “Are you ready, love?” Harry nods and then bites his lip, which gives Louis pause. “Are you okay?”

Harry nods, then averts his eyes. “I… Could you… Would you do something for me?”

“Anything,” Louis answers immediately. Worry starts to prickle in his mind and chest.

“Could you...hold my wrists down?” Harry asks sheepishly. He doesn’t look at Louis as he says it.

Louis doesn’t reply right away, lets the thought rush over him. He wants that, would love to do that. He wants to see how Harry looks when he can’t touch, when Louis pins him to the bed completely.

“Are you sure?” Louis asks softly, running a hand along Harry’s cheeks to tilt his head back so he can look him in the eyes.

Harry nods, clearly still embarrassed or worried or maybe a combination of the two. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I really like it when you, like, when you tell me to do stuff, and when you press me down. You held my wrists one time just for a second and I really liked it.” He stops and takes a breath. “If you’re not comfortable with that, we don’t have to do it. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up,” he rushes to say.

Louis starts shaking his head immediately. “No, no baby,” he says, and he kisses Harry for good measure. “Don’t feel bad about asking me for what you want. I want you to talk to me about this stuff, okay?”

Harry nods, still blushing. “Okay.”

“I can do that,” Louis agrees. “I can hold your wrists down. How… How rough do you want it?”

The question seems to throw Harry for a beat before he says, “Just, like, so I can’t touch you.”

Louis nods and touches Harry’s chest, feels his heart pounding in his chest and knows his probably is pounding just as hard. “Okay. If you want me to stop, tell me okay?”

“Okay,” Harry answers. Without any direction from Louis, he raises his hands and rests them next to his head on the pillow.

Louis can’t think too much about the sight that makes as he reaches down to grip his cock. He rests it against Harry’s entrance and asks, “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry breathes out. “Want you to fuck me now.”

Louis is absolutely on board with that, so he gently starts to push in. He inches his way in but doesn’t give Harry much time to get used to the intrusion, slowly pushing in bit by bit until his hips are flush with Harry’s arse and his cock is buried deep inside.

He pushes Harry’s legs farther apart with his knees and keeps his cock inside of him, bringing his hands up to grab Harry’s hands and link their fingers. He leans down and kisses him again, for what’s probably the millionth time because he loves Harry’s lips, loves the way their mouths fit together, loves how close he feels to him when he’s inside him and gets to kiss him too.

“You can move,” Harry says quietly.

Louis drops Harry’s hands back to the bed and slowly drags his hands down until his fingers close around Harry’s wrists. He gently presses them into the pillow and starts to thrust a bit, pushing his cock in a bit deeper before he pulls it almost the way out and thrusts back in.

He picks up a rhythm, an even pace as he thrusts in and out of Harry and tries to also focus on keeping his wrists down. It doesn’t take long for Harry to start to moan, probably not loud enough for the other boys to hear but loud enough for it to ring in Louis’ ears, a pretty chorus of Harry’s voice telling him Louis is giving him what he wants.

He starts to fuck Harry a little harder, a little faster, his hips picking up speed as he thrusts into deep into Harry. He feels like he can’t breathe when Harry gasps and twists his head into the pillow, chanting, “Fuck, Louis, right there.”

Louis grips Harry’s wrists a little harder and thrusts back in at the same angle, nailing Harry’s prostate again. From there on, he’s relentless, every thrust deep into Harry hitting his prostate and making him cry out.

He feels his belly slippery with Harry’s precome, his cock leaking over his own belly. Louis wants to reach down, wants to touch, but he’s not sure if Harry wants that.

“Are you close?” he asks, leaning down to lick at the sweat beading on Harry’s collarbone. He licks over the tattoos, tastes the salt on his tongue.

“I’m close,” Harry replies. He wraps his legs around Louis’ waists, ankles digging into his skin. “I’m gonna come.”

“Do you want to come from my cock?” Louis asks. “Do you want my hand?”

“Your cock,” Harry says. “Harder, Lou. Please.”

Louis can feel his own moans rumble in his chest as he fucks Harry harder, his thrusts deep and precise. He wants Harry to come, wants to see him come apart under him from just his cock. Harry not being able to touch himself or touch Louis is a heady thought. He thrusts once and stays there, grinding into Harry so he keeps pressure on his prostate. He squeezes Harry’s wrists once, just a bit, and Harry comes with a shout.

Louis stills when he feels Harry’s come, hot and wet, paint their stomachs. He loosens his grip on Harry’s wrists and slides them back up to link their fingers together. He hasn’t come yet, but he wants to make sure Harry is okay first.

He kisses him once, Harry breathing hard and erratic as he comes down. He squeezes his fingers around Louis in reassurance.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks.

“I’m perfect,” Harry replies. The smile he gives him is blinding. His cheeks are flushed, his forehead is sweaty, his hair is matted, and he looks like the perfect image of being fucked.

“Good,” Louis says. He’s starting to feel oversensitive, his cock still buried in Harry’s arse.

“Want you to come now,” Harry replies. He digs his ankles into Louis’ lower back. “Want you to fuck me ‘til you come.”

Louis groans and presses his forehead to Harry’s. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Harry replies. “C’mon, babe. You can do it.”

Harry’s words spur Louis to start thrusting his hips again. Now that he’s not so focused on giving Harry pleasure, he can focus on how tight Harry is, how perfect and hot he feels around him. He fucks Harry hard and fast, his cock driving in and out of him at a bruising pace. It takes a few more thrusts and then it’s over. He spills into the condom and all but collapses on top of Harry, who immediately begins running his hands through Louis’ hair to help him calm down.

It’s another minute before he pulls out and disposes of the condom, but he settles back next to Harry right away and pulls him into his arms. He’s tired, so tired, and he keeps running his fingers along Harry’s wrists, checking for any signs he might have gone too far.

“I’m fine,” Harry insists after Louis runs his hands over his wrists for the fifth or sixth time. “You were perfect.”

When he kisses Louis again, something in Louis finally settles. The last thing he hears before drifting off to sleep is Harry whispering “ _Thank you_ ” into his ear.

\----

Niall comes up with the idea when they’re drunkenly celebrating Harry’s birthday surrounded by first years.

“Look at these children!” he yells, so loudly that Harry is nervous some of them might try to get big in their britches and start a fight. “All clamoring about on top of each other like it’s the first time they’ve ever been to a party! Or laid!”

“Shhh!” Louis shushes him, throwing a hand over his mouth.

“I’m just saying, they’re all bright eyed and bushy-tailed! Can’t even worry about anything other than spring break,” Niall takes a sip of his drink that he just poured and then whoops loudly. “That’s it!”

“What, Niall?” Liam asks, handing a drink to Trevor before supplying another for himself.

Harry nestles into Louis, already bored with Niall’s train of thought.

Louis giggles and swats Harry away, only to have Harry come back in harder, biting at his neck playfully.

“That’s actually not a bad idea, Niall,” Liam tells him happily, a little too drunk.

“What idea?” Louis snaps back to reality, pushing Harry out of the way.

Harry grumbles. What fucking idea could be more important than Harry getting handsy with his boyfriend?

“Spring break!” Niall cheers. “We should go on a spring break trip! All of us!”

Louis cheers right back. “Niall! That’s the best idea I’ve heard in years!”

“I’ll be going home for spring break,” Trevor pouts for a second, before adding happily, “but you guys could go to Australia!”

“Or Rome!” Liam adds, squeezing Trevor excitedly.

“Or caravan through Ireland!” Niall jumps, while everyone groans.

“I don’t care where we go as long as there’s a beach,” Harry offers his input. Spring break should mean a beach under his bum, a drink in his hand, and his boy in his lap.

Louis leans up into his ear, “Perfect babe. As long as you don’t mind fucking me in a cabana.”

Harry chokes on his drink.

It’s during their excited rambling and giggling about spring break that it finally gets noticed by the first years that they’re not actually first years.

They kick them out immediately.

\----

Rusty’s is, once again, buzzing with people when the boys walk in the Thursday after they get kicked out of the first years’ party. Harry is performing again and Louis may or may not have made a sign that is tucked away in his pocket that he can hold up when Harry gets on stage. Harry immediately disappears backstage after giving Louis a kiss and tells him to save him a seat.

Louis goes to the bar with Trevor to get drinks while Liam and Niall find a table. They’re close to the stage again, which is just fine with Louis, and they suffer through a few mediocre performances and one really great one of a girl playing violin.

Louis is surprised when Niall announces to the table at large, “Be back boys,” and whisks off without a further explanation. Louis looks at Liam, who just shrugs, and they go back to watching the performers.

Only one more person stands between them and Harry’s performance. When Harry steps out on stage, guitar strung around his neck and chest on display as usual, Louis wolf whistles.

  
Harry giggles into the microphone and adjusts its height. “Hello, I’m Harry Styles,” he says to loud clapping from the audience. “It’s very nice to be here.”

Louis tugs the sign he made from his shirt and unfolds it, revealing I HEART HARRY in black permanent marker surrounded by rather awful pink hearts. When Harry sees the sign, he bursts into giggles again and has to step back from the microphone so it doesn’t echo around the room. He yells to Louis, away from the microphone, “Thanks babe,” before stepping back into place. He waits for the crowd to settle before saying, “I’ve got a cover for you tonight, but I’m going to need some help.”

At that moment, Niall steps out onto the stage with him, his own guitar in hand, and grinning like mad. Louis knows he already downed at least two beers so he’s nursing a comfortable buzz. He drags a second microphone stand out with him and sets it up next to Harry’s, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Hello, Rusty’s! How the fuck are you? I’m Niall,” he greets.

A few people in the crowd yell hello back and then laugh when Harry says, “He’s Irish.”

Trevor whistles at that and the crowd politely claps as Niall tunes his guitar.

“So Niall is gonna help me out tonight with one of my favorite songs,” Harry says slowly. “You probably know it. It sounds better the more people sing it, so if you know the words, please sing along with us.”

Louis has no idea what song Harry has selected for this performance, but he picks up on it immediately when Harry and Niall begin to strum the opening chords of Landslide. Harry sings first and Niall joins in on the second verse, the two harmonizing together beautifully in what’s a kind of hybrid of the original Fleetwood Mac version combined with a folkier take. Louis knew Niall played guitar, but this is the first time he’s ever heard him play outside of a few songs at parties and he can tell Niall absolutely loves it. Soon enough, the crowd joins in on singing leading to a pub-wide singalong. Of course Louis sings along, too. Harry grins the whole time as he and Niall sway back and forth on stage together.

For not the first time where Harry is concerned, Louis is completely mesmerized. He looks like a literal angel on stage with his fitted white tee and dark jeans, curls loose and flowing onto his shoulders. His rings catch the stagelight and shoot the occasional rainbow onto the wall. It makes sense that Louis can’t breathe, because Harry is literally breathtaking.

Harry finishes the song solo to thunderous applause. He and Niall thank the crowd over the cheers and hug each other before heading backstage.

The cheers quiet down while the crowd waits for the next performer and Louis doesn’t have much time to wonder where Harry is because suddenly he’s next to him, wrapping arms around his neck and resting his chin on his shoulder.

Louis twists his neck to kiss whatever part of Harry he can reach. “You were wonderful, love.”

“Hey!” Niall exclaims from across the table. “What am I, Tommo, the black sheep?”

“You were wonderful too, baby,” Louis says, deadpan. Trevor and Liam immediately roar with laughter.

Niall huffs and reaches for whatever beer bottle is closest to him. “You guys suck.”

They all laugh at that.

They stay for a few more acts before calling it quits for the night. Trevor and Liam say goodbye at the door as they head in the direction of Trevor’s flat. Niall, Louis, and Harry begin the trek back to their own flat in the cold, walking close together to fight the wind.

“You two aren’t ditching me to go fuck,” Niall says as they turn onto their street. “We’re watching a movie.” His tone leaves no room for argument, so Louis and Harry find themselves nestled together on the couch as Niall pops in Forrest Gump for no apparent reason other than he feels like watching it.

Niall makes it through the movie. Harry and Louis don’t, falling asleep together on the sofa buried under blankets and Harry using Louis’ chest as a pillow.

\----

Harry is freezing. His final class of the day had just let out, and he steps outside to the freezing cold air, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. He automatically regrets forgetting his gloves, his fingers already numb from the bitter air.

He’s staring at the ground, trying to ignore the gusts of wind that are trying to knock him down as he heads home. He shoves his hands into his pockets, burrows his neck and chin into his scarf, and hopes he doesn't get frostbite.

Then there’s a whistle, and a loud cat call of “Hey there, good-lookin’.”

Harry would recognize that voice anywhere. He looks up up, and there he is. Louis’ smile is absolutely blinding as he leans against his car idling on the curb, dressed in his school clothes and a beanie, beckoning Harry over.

“Hurry up, Curly! ‘m freezin’ me balls off,” Louis calls as he shuffles back into the car, quickly.

Harry laughs in disbelief as he runs over to the car, getting in as fast as he can. The heater hits his face full blast. Louis ducks in as well and immediately shoves his hands in front of the vent.

“How long have you been waiting?” Harry asks as soon as he straps on his seatbelt.

  
“No kiss?” Louis huffs grumpily. “I surprise you from work and-”

Harry kisses him quiet.

“Thank you, love,” Louis smiles at him, fondly. “I saw your schedule lying on your desk and realized our schedules line up Mondays and Wednesdays. Figured I'd take out my fit boyfriend out to an early dinner. Maybe make a habit out of it.”

Harry hums, leaning in to kiss him again. “That sounds like the best idea I've heard all day,” Louis accepts the kiss happily. “Love when you call me your boyfriend.”

Louis pulls himself away to start driving. “Don't get hard now, boyfriend.”

Harry cackles loudly, and Louis’ grin back at him makes his heart beat three times too fast.

\----

“You can,” Harry grits out. “God, Lou, harder.”

Louis fucks into Harry even harder. His thighs slap the backs of Harry’s thighs as he slides in and out at a relentless pace. Harry arches his back, his hands held together behind his back by Louis, as Louis fucks him right on his desk. Louis groans at the sight of Harry so pliant so, willing, automatically putting his hands behind his back for Louis as soon as he draped himself over his desk. Louis’ thoughts had zoomed straight to how Harry looked like a naughty schoolboy, but he had more pressing matters at hand. Like his boyfriend literally bending over for him.

Harry shakes his head, his sweaty curls sprawling out. “My wrists, Lou. Hold them harder. Please.”

Louis downright moans, pressing his hands into Harry’s wrists. He feels the soft skin, the way it folds to the pressure of his fingers. He lets the sound of Harry's whine ring in his ears.

Christ, they should probably talk about this. Especially considering this is the third time this week Harry has had his hands held in some sort of way by Louis.

Louis continues at his brutal pace, watching Harry bound, as he presses his fingers down hard enough to bruise.

“Gonna come from this, baby? Don't need to touch, do you? You can come just like this can't you?”

Harry whines again at that. “Yes,” he grits out, his voice muffled by his head turned into the desk.

Louis folds himself over Harry's body, mouthing at Harry's neck. The added pressure on Harry's wrists must be too much for him to handle because it takes Louis three or four thrusts like that before Harry is crying out and spilling over the desk.

Louis leans up to look at Harry, still thrusting shallowly. Harry grins back at him lazily. “Come on back down here, babe, wanna see you come. Love how good you make it for me.”

Harry looks completely spent, body covered in a sheen of sweat and curls matted on his face. He's beautiful, always is, but there's something about how he looks after he's come, sweaty and happy and so so pliant, that literally steals Louis’ breath.

Louis complies though, folding himself back down, building his rhythm back up. He knows he won't last long, not with Harry looking like that. Especially not when his hands are still gripped tightly behind his back. Harry stretches a hand out to grip at his abdomen, nails scratching him roughly as he bites at Louis’ neck, below his ear. That's all it takes for Louis to come, spilling into the condom.

Louis rests his head on Harry’s back, as he tries to get his heartbeat back to normal.

Harry slips his arms back down to neutral and there's a small shift of his body before he's looking back at Louis and saying, “I think you're going to need to reprint your lesson plans.”

\----

“I found it!” Niall returns to the couch, where Harry and Louis are cuddled up and Liam is dozing off, while they all watch Captain America, again.

“Found what?” Harry asks when he realizes that Louis and Liam aren’t going to respond to Niall’s shenanigans. They both had glanced at Niall briefly, then looked to Harry, and then back at the screen.

Niall moves to stand in front of the TV, ignoring the grumbles from Liam and Louis.

“Our spring break vacation. I found it on Groupon. We’re going to Barcelona!” He yells wildly.

Liam pauses the movie. “What?”

Harry and Louis share a glance, Louis reaching down to grip Harry’s thigh.

“What are you talking about, Nialler?” Louis asks.

“When we went out for Harry’s birthday two weeks ago, we said we wanted to go on vacation for spring break. So I found the vacation. It’s in our price range because it’s a fucking Groupon and I’ve been waiting, and as soon as you say yes I am going to book it. Barcelona, here we come!”

“Barcelona as in Barcelona, Spain?” Liam clarifies.

Harry pinches Louis hip excitedly.

“You’re sure about this, Niall Horan?” Louis asks him again, albeit a little too happily. “Pull up the paperwork. Let’s look at this.”

Niall whoops and jumps up, before running back into his room and coming back with the laptop.

The boys pile up behind the laptop as Niall shows them the hotel, dates, flights, and prices. Everything checks out and they all start to excitedly look up things they could do there.

“So I can book it?” Niall confirms, nodding at the screen.

Louis and Harry look at each other before looking at Liam, who grins and tells Niall, “Yeah, you can book it.”

Niall jumps up, making them all topple over. “Good! Because I booked it an hour ago.”

Louis is the first to start the wrestle pile.

\----

Louis spends three nights out of his week Googling “hands behind back during “sex,” “bdsm,” and “dom and sub for beginners.” He’s not really sure what he’s looking for, but he wants to be prepared for his conversation with Harry. He needs to be sure he knows what he wants to say, and what he should expect. He tries to Google as much as be can but he just, he feels like he’s going in blind without talking to Harry first (not to mention some of the results he’d gotten back had been rather...overwhelming). He’d rather talk, then research.

So, of course, his plan is to talk to Harry over dinner. Dinner is good because they’re both awake, usually in a very chatty mood, and they’re alone, which is most important.

It’s not like he’s nervous or anything, he’s not.

It’s just that, his plan sort of goes to shit when he blurts out, “So the wrist holding” while lying next to Harry in the middle of an episode of Chopped.

Harry turns to him, eyebrows scrunched together.

“I mean,” Louis barrels on. “We should probably talk about it, because I’ve held your wrists three times in the past week and you’ve asked for it harder each time and last night I pulled on your hair too hard accidentally and you literally came.”

Harry’s face turns bright red. “I-”

Louis doesn’t let him finish, let alone start. “I’ve been researching and stuff, and I just. I want to make this good. I’ve never done this before, whatever this is for you, or whatever you want. And I want- I want to know everything.”

Louis’ heart is hammering, and Harry reaches out and brushes his hand across Louis’ cheek.

  
“Lou, I’ve never,” Harry shakes his head. “I’ve never done this before either. I’m on the same page as you. I just asked because it felt right? I have started researching too a bit,” he ducks his head a little. “But, I want this with you.”

“What is it exactly that you want?” Louis asks, mind whirring.

Harry pauses, eyes narrowed in thought. “I like the pain of it, I think. And I like stopping myself? Like sometimes when I get off, I try to hold off as long as I possibly can. Or sometimes start and then stop completely.”

Louis swallows, trying to bury images of Harry starting to get himself off in the morning, and starting and stopping all day until he can finally come at the end of the night. “And the wrists?”

“I like,” Harry runs a hand through his hair. “I like being held down. I don’t know if it’s that I can’t touch, or if it’s that you have control of me, or that I’m giving you control of me. I don’t know what it is exactly yet, but I mean. I would like to test things out, with you. I mean, as long as you are into this, too. You like this?”

Harry is staring at him with such intensity Louis grazes his shoulder just for him to relax. “Yeah. Of course. I wouldn't look into it if I didn't. I like how responsive you are and how I can make you feel the way you do. I like that you trust me to do this for you.”

  
“I do trust you,” Harry says softly, “I've never asked for this, never even thought about it with anyone else but you.”

Louis leans and kisses him softly. “I trust you, too. I like it a lot. Never doubt that.”

Harry kisses him this time. “I'd never.”

Louis looks at Harry. “How should we go about this? There's like color systems and like.”

Harry pauses again, then says slowly, “Let's start off slow. Like maybe reading up together and separately, yeah? I mean, we know what we like now, we could just see how it goes. If we don't get something or aren't sure then we can talk.”

“Can we use the color system though? It's kind of badass,” Louis whispers conspiratorially.

Harry barks out a laugh. “Red is stop right? And yellow is slow down and talk? Green is good? Do I have that right?”

Louis nods. “Yeah. So we can try like me edging you, or denying you,” Louis starts.

Harry groans a bit. “Or just your voice in general since I'm about to get hard and I shouldn't.”

Louis giggles. “Or my voice and if we don't like something we say red. If we are unsure yellow and if we want to check in and keep going it's green.”

Harry starts to move himself a little closer. “I like the sound of that. There's a lot of ‘we’ in those statements. Because it's something we are doing together.”

Louis moves his body so Harry can shuffle his way on top of him. “We're the dream team, aren't we?”

Harry kisses his chest. “Yeah, we really are.”

Louis is quiet for a moment, both of them focused on Chopped. Louis squeezes Harry one more time before, he blurts out the last thing he had been wondering about since he Googled “bdsm.”

“Do you, like, want me to tell you what to do? Outside of the bedroom?”

Harry tilts his head up and immediately starts giggling.

“What?” Louis pokes at Harry’s stomach, making him laugh more. “That’s a completely relevant question!”

“The bedroom,” Harry mimics, making Louis laugh. “‘m serious Louis. I just want to try this slowly, probably just as slow as you want to. We don’t even have to do it every time we do stuff. Remember the sex we had the other day in the shower? You didn’t hold my wrists or pull my hair or direct me what to do and it was fucking amazing.”  
  
Louis can feel his face heating up at the memory. “That was really good sex,” he agrees. “I just wanted to be sure with what you wanted. I’d give you whatever you wanted, probably.”

Harry bites at Louis’ arm. “I know. And don’t forget I still haven’t fucked you yet.”

“Oh, so you don’t want me to be on top and deny you permission to touch me?”

Harry’s breath catches, and his eyes darken around the edges. “I mean, both. We’re doing both. Me fucking you until you can’t remember anything but my name, and _that_.”

Harry snuggles into Louis’ neck, breathing him in. Louis lets him, and feels himself settle a bit. “So we’re going slow, with all of this? For both of us? I like slow, and I like that we’re doing this together.”

“We do have some great communication going on,” Harry nods. “Who would have thought that we’d be talking about you tying me down when you first moved in?”

Louis laughs so hard his body shakes. “We would have been talking about me tying you down while I stole everything in your flat.”

Harry mock-gasps and climbs on top of Louis, tickling him. “No!” he says incredulously.

“Yes!” Louis cries out. “Actually, we could still do that. I’ll get nice black scarves to tie you to the bed. It’ll be just like a break in. And then I’ll steal Niall’s drug stash.”

“Louis!” Harry yells.

Louis’ cackle could be heard for miles.

\----

Louis is going for Boyfriend of the Year. Not only had he gotten home before Harry and had time to straighten up his room, doing a load of his laundry and dusting and even cleaning the windows, but Louis managed to run to the shops to grab them something for dinner.

The look on Harry's face when he comes home to see a DIY pizza station is worth the frantic running Louis did _back_ to the shops when he realized he forgot the fucking pizza sauce, of all things.

Harry drops his bag next to the door and drapes his coat on the coat rack. His face lights up when he sees the pizza dough resting on the counter and the toppings Louis had laid out.

“What's all this?” he asks, walking around to meet Louis and giving him a kiss hello.

“This, Harold, is our dinner. Or it will be, once we put them together and stick them in the oven,” Louis says, grinning when Harry nuzzles his neck.

“Did you preheat the oven?” Harry asks.

Louis freezes and his eyes drift to the oven. “Shit.”

Harry laughs and pulls away. “I got it.”

Louis runs a hand through his hair and twists to watch Harry lean over the stove and preheat the oven. “This is why I shouldn't be allowed in a kitchen. It's a miracle I didn't burn down the flat making that souffle.”

Harry rolls his eyes and walks back to stand next to Louis, surveying the spread on the counter in front of them. “Stop being self-deprecating and tell me what we have here.”

“Well,” Louis opens dramatically, “we have some very high quality organic pizza crusts, sauce, cheese, and what I'm pretty sure is every vegetable I thought you might want to put on a pizza because you're weird like that.”

Harry elbows him and Louis laughs. “You got pepperoni, too.”

“I remembered,” Louis winks.

“You did,” Harry agrees. “Alright, Jamie Oliver, let's do this.”

Harry's pizza is marginally healthier than Louis’, but really only because Louis decided to have a higher cheese-to-other-toppings ratio. Harry helps put away the extra ingredients after they shove their pizzas in the oven to bake.

Louis hops up onto the counter and pulls Harry in so he's standing between his legs. Harry's head comes up to Louis’ chest.

“I quite like you being shorter than me,” Louis teases. He drags his hands along Harry's scalp and tangles his fingers in the curls.

“Don't get used to it,” Harry says back before leaning up to kiss Louis again.

They happily make out until the oven beeps and Louis gives a long-suffering sigh when Harry steps back to pull their pizzas out. When Harry bursts out laughing, Louis peers around him to see what's so funny.

Louis perhaps got a little overzealous with the cheese…

“You can't even see the crust!” Harry cackles as he drops the pan onto the stove. “I told you that you needed to be careful sprinkling it on so close to the edge!”

Louis huffs. “It'll still taste good.”

Harry keeps giggling as he pulls his own, perfect (of course) pizza out and sets it next to Louis’.

“Can I take a picture and send it to the boys?” Harry asks. “They'll love this.”

Louis gives him an unimpressed look but Harry is already snapping a picture and sending it off to Liam, Niall, Trevor. He shows Louis the caption.

_Guess who made which. :)_

He laughs even harder when Louis glares at him. In retaliation, Louis pins him to the counter and kisses him quiet until their pizzas are cool enough to eat.

\-----

March brings more nights shared than apart. It shows when Louis chooses not to leave Harry’s room to answer his sister’s FaceTime call, but instead chooses to answer it when he’s still in Harry’s bed. His feet are propped on Harry’s back as Harry lies on his stomach across the bed to do homework.

“Nice hair,” is the first thing Louis says as he picks up his sister’s call.

Harry tilts his head curiously. Did Lottie do something to her hair? Fizzy? Jay? Did Doris get spaghetti in her hair again?

“Figured you’d like a good rainbow,” Lottie laughs, voice grainy through the phone.

Harry’s eyebrows furrow as he opens his phone to Snapchat pulling up Lottie’s snaps from the day. He wants to see her hair. Lottie always keeps a hair and makeup update on her snaps.

Harry smiles as he watches Lottie dye the roots of her hair rainbow. It's a cute look. He feels a bit like a big brother admiring his little sister and the thought instantly makes his heart swell.

“Tell her I love it,” Harry mouths as Louis, careful not to disturb his weekly session. Louis usually always takes hours in his weekly calls in his room, while Harry works on assignments in his own.

Louis flicks his eyes to Harry and back to Lottie, a little confused. “What?” He mouths back.

Harry points to his hair. “I love it!” He mouths again, trying not to laugh.

Louis nods in conjunction to a story Lottie is telling about her now boyfriend, and shakes his head at Harry.

Harry rolls his eyes and points to the phone, then his hair, and a heart sign.

“Oh for God’s sake Harold! You just tell her!” Louis says exasperatedly, tapping the screen to flip it so it is recording Harry instead.

“Hi,” Harry drawls, laughing at Louis, pouting behind the phone. “I love your hair.”

“Thank you!” Lottie chirps. “It'd be lovely if you could see it now but my idiot brother, ya know?”

Louis scoffs, before handing Harry the phone so he can see Lottie on the screen.

Lottie’s bright rainbow is the first thing he sees. The proud older brother heart swell returns as she smiles brightly at him. “I love it. You think I could pull that off?”

“Duh. I'll do it myself,” Lottie’s smile becomes a bit sinister, just like Louis. “Nice room by the way Harry, I'm glad you both are fully clothed.”

Harry laughs at Lottie's wink. He barely gets out a “Thanks” before Louis is squawking and wriggling about.

“Oi!” Louis shouts making grabby hands for the phone.

Harry holds it just out of his reach. He can barely see Lottie shuffling around, as he and Louis struggle for the phone.

“Mum! Louis sleeps in the same bed as his boyfriend!” Lottie sings as they freeze and both of their faces burn red.

Jay appears on the screen, head popping in. “Oh, is that Harry? How are you, love! Let me talk to him.” Jay grabs the phone from Lottie as both her and Louis’ jaw drops. Harry giggles. Louis grabs at Harry moving him to sit next to him, so they both can talk.

“I just tried that recipe,” Jay starts. Louis rolls his eyes and throws his arm around Harry, watching fondly as Harry smiles happily at Jay. What can he say? His heart is swollen two times it’s size and he wants to know how the recipe he gave her turned out.

They all don't get off the phone for hours. Harry and Louis chat with every member of the family, and Louis calls Harry his boyfriend or some variation of it six times. It's a successful weekly Tomlinson FaceTime chat, and Harry's heart couldn't be fuller.

\----

The thing about preparing for spring break is that Harry hadn’t realized how stressful it actually is. It’s not his fault. This is his first proper spring break trip ever and so the last few weeks before break zoom past and before they know it, they’re going to be boarding a plane to Barcelona in less than 48 hours.

Louis has been smirking from his place perched on Harry’s bed for the last hour as Harry rummages through his clothes trying to find appropriate vacation attire. He oh-so-helpfully chimes in every once in awhile to tell Harry about how _he’s_ been packed since last night and _he_ made sure he already finished his laundry and _he_ can’t believe that _he_ is done packing when Harry is not.

Eventually, the only way to shut him up is to jump on the bed and kiss him silent, which works for all of five minutes before Louis rolls them over and pins him to the bed. Harry was just trying to get him to shut up, but this works, too.

“I’ve got to,” Harry breathes out as Louis grinds down onto him. “Babe, I’ve got to finish packing.”

“Just go naked,” Louis suggests as he nips along Harry’s jawline. “I’m sure there are nude beaches. You’d fit right in.”

Harry giggles and tugs at Louis’ hair. “If I’m not packed by tonight Liam will have my head.”

“I’ll defend you,” Louis replies. “Besides, I’m pretty sure he and Trevor aren’t leaving Trevor’s flat for the next twelve hours _at least_. Apparently not seeing each other for a month might actually kill them.”

Harry decides not to remind him about how _they_ barely lasted two weeks without seeing each other without going mad. He thinks Louis might kick him. Or stop kissing him, which is worse.

“I’m sad Trevor isn’t going,” Harry says. “Though that means we get the monopoly on beach sex.”

Louis cackles a laugh and buries his head in Harry’s neck. “The first thing we should do is scope the place out. Maybe Google if there’s a fine for getting caught.”

“We’ll just have to be sneaky,” Harry says. “I’m willing to risk it. Picture it: salty air, waves crashing down,-”

“Sand in your arse,” Louis finishes with a cheeky grin

“Well I’d like to _think_ there wouldn’t be any room,” Harry says deadpan, eyes wide.

It takes Louis a beat before he gets it, and when he does, he laughs so hard he actually collapses on top of Harry and rolls off onto his back, covering his face with his hands.

Louis’ hands are tugged away and he’s met with Harry grinning at him, curls a messy halo around his head as he links their fingers. “Thought you might appreciate that one.”

“You’re so suggestive, Harold,” Louis says, mock-offended. “I think you mean to take advantage of me.”

“More than once,” Harry says seriously, nodding along. “Though we should take advantage of being in Barcelona, too.”

“What do you want to do there?” Louis asks, untangling and then retangling their fingers so he can play with the rings on Harry’s hand.

“Well,” Harry says with a flourish, “I was Googling things to do. There’s an art museum which could be cool. There’s a basilica that also looked really cool, but I read on Trip Advisor the wait can be really long so I’m not sure if we’ll get to that. And,” he says, pausing dramatically.

“And?” Louis prods.

“Camp Nou,” Harry says, smiling so wide his dimples crater his face.

Louis’ eyes widen and he almost knocks Harry back with how fast he sits up. “You want to go? To Camp Nou?”

Harry nods and really is knocked back when Louis crashes into him and kisses him all over his face.

“I didn’t think anyone would want to go with me,” Louis says between kisses. “Maybe Niall. But really? You want to go?”

“Yes, Lou, I really want to go,” Harry says on a laugh. “I was reading about the tour and the museum and it looks really fun. Maybe a bit overpriced, but I figured we could splurge.”

Louis’ eyes shine and he knows he’s fonding hard enough to break his face but he doesn’t care, because Harry is still smiling and looks like he’s going to burst into laughter at any moment and it’s perfect.

“I’m so excited,” Louis says. “For that but for everything else too. I’m so excited to get to go with you and the lads.”

“And to have our own room,” Harry tacks on.

Louis rolls his eyes. “We pretty much share a bedroom anyway these days, Haz.”

“Yes,” Harry says slowly, “but not separated from Liam and Niall by mostly-soundproof walls.”

Louis can’t help the wicked grin that overtakes his face. “And our own shower.”

“Now you’re getting it.” Harry returns the grin.

“We might never make it to Camp Nou,” Louis says. “Not if I never let you leave the room.”

“And I was thinking,” Harry begins, waiting for Louis to look him in the eye before he continues. “I don’t want this to sound like I’m… Like I’m _scheduling_ it, or anything. But I was thinking, if you wanted, maybe we could switch while we’re on vacation?”

“Switch what?” Louis asks.

“Positions,” Harry answers. “I could fuck you.”

Immediately, visions of being in their own, private hotel room with their own bed swim into Louis’ mind, the opportunity to do this without worrying about being interrupted or walked in on or being too loud. And he wants this with Harry. They’ve mentioned it before, when they were talking about trying out some new things together. Harry had already expressed an interest in it. But now, with the possibilities looming ahead, Louis feels overwhelmed and excited and nervous and a whole jumble of things but above all he knows it’ll be amazing.

“Of course, love,” Louis replies, realizing that he might have been silent for a second too long based on how Harry is starting to look a bit nervous. “Sorry, I just zoned out thinking about it.”

“We don’t have to.”

“Oh, yes we do,” Louis replies. “We talked about it before, didn’t we? I want it, too.”

“No pressure,” Harry goes on to say, squeezing Louis’ hand. “Like I said I’m not trying to schedule it or anything. I just figured, since we’ll have time to ourselves, it might be a good time.”

“I think it’s an excellent idea,” Louis agrees. “Do you normally switch? Like, with guys you’ve been with before?”

Harry bites his lower lip in thought. “I guess? I’ve done both before. I think I like bottoming more, but I like both. And I’ve been thinking about it with you for a while. I want to do everything with you. Everything _you_ want to do.”

“Well, Harold,” Louis says, “I definitely want you to fuck me in our Barcelona hotel room. And other places too, if the opportunity arises. But I guess we shouldn’t get overzealous and should just aim for the hotel room for now.”

Harry’s laugh bubbles out of him and he nestles his head back into the pillow, Louis hovering over him and starting to scrape his nails along the faint stubble on his neck. “Good.”

“Good,” Louis repeats. “Now, why don’t I help you finish packing? If we work fast we might have time for a quickie before Niall comes back with dinner.”

As it turns out, they’re the dream team when they pack as well.

\----

Harry fumbles with the key as Louis presses himself against him excitedly.

“C’mon Curly! I want to see the damn room!” Louis complains loudly, as he watches Niall and Liam stumble into their room happily, whooping and hollering.

Harry rolls his eyes and opens the door quickly, revealing their room. Their king bed is large in the small room, light shining in from the balcony and glass door. There’s even a slight breeze. It’s not big at all, in fact it’s just a regular room (pretty nice for Groupon, actually), but for some reason Harry feels inexplicably happy because it’s theirs. For 9 days this place is _their_ home.

He should probably not dwell on that.

Except Louis runs in quickly, throwing his things down, and hops on the bed.

“Welcome home, love,” Louis says sweetly as he leans back on his hands, and that tone is so teasing, but there’s a hint of seriousness under that joke. Harry can tell by the lines of Louis’ mouth, the smile that is so fond, it’s like he can’t even control himself. The joke is self-defense, even though Harry had the exact same thought.

Harry closes the door, drops his bags right next to Louis’, and struts right up to him lounging on the bed.

He grabs his face, kissing him hard, causing Louis to fall back onto the bed.

Louis immediately grabs hold onto Harry’s hips roughly, kiss becoming hot and desperate way too quickly. Harry drags his hands down Louis’ chest, getting his hands underneath the soft shirt so he can feel the heat of his skin. They’ve been in the room less than two minutes and already Harry isn’t sure they’re going to be leaving it.

Right on cue, there’s loud banging on the door making both of them groan, but Harry doesn’t make a move to get off of Louis. They are stock still, watching each other for the inevitable screeching of Niall from behind the door.

“There’s no way I’m letting you two fuck when we’ve only been in Spain for thirty minutes! Let’s go, you can fuck like rabbits all night-”

“Niall!” Liam shouts. A noise that sounds a lot like an arm being punched is muffled behind the door.

“Let’s go, please!” Niall yells politely. Through the door they can barely make out, “Goddamn it, Liam. Do you abuse Trevor like this?”

Harry and Louis giggle at each other, Harry burrowing his face in the crook of Louis’ neck.

“Come on, love. We can continue later, I promise,” Louis whispers. “Right now we’ve got to take our children out for their tour of the city. They’re very needy.”

Harry laugh along with Louis. “Do you think we can call them our sons?”

“We’ll see how long it takes for them to cave and call us their parents. Give Liam a few drinks, I’m sure he’ll do it,” Louis rubs at Harry’s back, as Niall knocks again.

“Coming children!” Harry yells, before kissing Louis once again and pulling them both up.

They’ve got the city to see.

\----

They spend their first day and night walking around the city and exploring the shops and markets. Niall even convinces them all to take a tour bus around the city that has them all giddy and laughing. The plane ride was only two hours but it feels like they’re on the other side of the world. Everything is new and exciting; the sounds, the smells, the people on the street. High off each other and freedom to do whatever they want in this city, it feels like the start of something new.

Harry jokes over drinks with dinner their first night that he’s going to do yoga the next morning to start the week out right.

At least, Louis thinks he’s joking.

Until there’s rustling on Harry’s side of the bed that morning, entirely too early for there to be movement.

Louis opens his eyes slowly, sun shining too brightly, creating a halo over Harry’s naked body putting on pants.

“Wha’r you doing?” Louis slurs, face still buried in the pillow.

Harry jumps in surprise, climbing over to kiss Louis on the head. “Go back to sleep love. I’m going to go do yoga at that park we passed yesterday. Remember I said I was going to do yoga there?”

Louis wipes his eyes, more awake now. “You were serious?” he asks incredulously. The sun is _barely_ peeking through their closed blinds.

Harry laughs, low, his eyes sparkling. “Yes, Lou. Of course I was serious.”

Louis makes a grab for his hips. “What if I don’t want you to go and I want to spend time with you?”

He tries to put on his best pout.

Harry just looks at him fondly. “I’d tell you to come with me then.”

Louis scoffs.

“Come on, Lou. It’d be so much fun for both of us to do it together. Plus, we can take a walk and get breakfast after.” He begins to pull his hair up, baby curls breaking free as he ties it up into a bun. It’s Harry’s turn to pout.

Fuck him, honestly. With his plump lips and big, big, green eyes. How he managed to turn it around, Louis has no idea.

“Fine. But if I hate yoga, this will literally never happen again,” Louis tells him very seriously.

“Deal,” Harry smiles brightly, and kisses Louis good morning.

\----

“This is the worst thing I have ever done,” Louis huffs out as he goes back down into down dog for the third time. There’s a layer of sweat that’s covering his body and they’ve only been doing yoga for fifteen minutes.

“I like to do flow yoga, it really gets your blood moving,” Harry replies easily. Louis sneaks a look at him, completely jealous of his ability to move so seamlessly between poses without issue.

“Put me on the pitch, I’ll run all day. I’ll do anything on the pitch, but this, Harold,” Louis moves back to his plank, arms shaking with exertion. “This is a little much.”

“The view’s not bad though,” Harry smirks, eyes flickering to Louis’ bum. “Want to do cat-cow again?”

Louis’ mouth had practically watered at the sight of Harry doing the cat-cow poses. The arch of his back during cat, pert bum raised in the air. It was enough to knock the wind out of Louis. Especially with Harry in the shortest shorts known to man that he was wearing.

Louis rolls his eyes and huffs a breath, half because he wants Harry to know just how not fun this is and half because he’s pretty sure his lungs are on fire. “Are you sure those poses only did something for me?”

They move into star pose, bending at the waist. A bird chirps overhead. Louis regrets every life decision that brought him to this moment.

Louis’ bum is directly in Harry’s face as they lower their arms to the ground.

“No,” Harry tells him smugly. “This is doing plenty for me.”

Louis wiggles his ass in reply, and pretends this isn’t the hardest form of exercise he’s done in years.

He lasts all of 45 minutes before the sexual frustration of Harry bending and contorting, the muscles in his entire body flexing as he breathes through the moves effortlessly, gets to him and he gets up and kisses him.

Harry, as it turns out, is just as desperate.

Maybe they should do yoga more often together.

\----

On their second full day in Barcelona, the group heads out sightseeing. Their first stop after breakfast is the Barcelona Museum of Contemporary Art, where they wander amongst the collection and make commentary about all the different pieces of art spanning the decades. Louis likes some art, but he’s more interested in watching Harry, who particularly enjoys looking at each piece and reading the little summaries about them. Niall enjoys the air conditioning.

When they break for lunch, they decide on their next plan of attack. Harry’s suggestion wins out and they all trek to Palau de la Música Catalana, a gorgeous concert hall. They take a guided tour through the building, moving through the different halls and traveling to the second floor skylight. Louis is mesmerized by the colors; rooms cloaked in golds and greens and purples and blues, the stained glass windows, the decorated columns. Harry and Niall hang onto every word their guide says, and Louis and Liam hang back to let the proper musicians of the group take it in.

It’s late afternoon as they head back to the hotel. Niall keeps rubbing under his eyes to rub away the sweat pooling from the hot sun. Liam is texting Trevor. Harry and Louis are walking next to each other, arms occasionally bumping causing them both to giggle.

“Alright, lads,” Niall announces as they step through the revolving door to their hotel and into the blissfully cool air. “We’re going clubbing tonight.”

Liam lets out a groan. “Niall…”

“Don’t _Niall_ me, Payno,” Niall says, not even looking back as he leads them to the elevator. “It’ll be our third night here and we haven’t gone clubbing yet. I think that’s just a travesty.”

Louis laughs and says, “Gonna try to pull, Nialler?”

Liam scoffs. “No, he most definitely is _not_ , because we’re not only sharing a room but we’re sharing a _bed_ ,” he says indignantly, scowling. “The only pulling he’ll be doing is on the covers when he steals them in the middle of the night. _Again_.”

Harry and Louis burst into laughter at Liam’s disgruntled face and the smirk that’s settled over Niall’s lips. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. They tumble in after each other and hit the number 4 for their floor.

“Lima Bean,” Niall giggles, “I’ve already apologized for that.”

Liam huffs but his eyes soften as he replies, “You’re buying the first round.”

Niall whoops and fist pumps. “I don’t even care that that’s a ripoff for me!” he exclaims happily as they head down the hall to their rooms. “Alright, so, we’ll do dinner in a bit, break for a while, then get together at what? 10ish? And we’ll hit the town!”

Louis can’t help but feel enthused by Niall’s enthusiasm, so he says, “I think that’s a perfect plan.” He looks to Liam and Harry. “Alright with that?”

Harry nods eagerly and Liam lets out a defeated sigh but smiles. “Alright. But when we’re all too hungover to do anything tomorrow, don’t bitch about it to me.”

\----

Clubbing in Barcelona is, more or less, pretty much like clubbing back at home. The only difference is Louis has never seen such a thrilled reaction to Rhythm Divine before, but he doesn’t dwell on it too much. He’s much too focused on Harry grinding his back to Louis’ front, cocktail with a little pink umbrella in hand as they giggle and dance together. They scream along with the crowd, “All I need is the rhythm divine. Lost in the music, your heart will be mine. All I need is the look in your eyes. Viva la música, say you’ll be mine.” Somewhere next to them Niall and Liam are dancing with a group of American girls, also on spring break, and singing along too. Louis had a vodka cranberry and switched to beer. He’s overheated and flushed and buzzed. Harry isn’t faring much better. He’d started with a Long Island Iced Tea and moved his way through two Bay Breezes and a Sex on the Beach. Liam has been nursing just a couple beers all night. Louis gave up trying to track Niall’s drinks a while ago.

When the song switches to an EDM mix Louis doesn’t recognize, he tugs on Harry’s hand until he gets his attention. When Harry’s bright, glazed eyes finally focus on him, Louis shouts, “Wanna sit for a minute?”

Harry nods his agreement and tightens his hold on Louis’ hand. Louis sees him lean over to shout in Liam’s ear, then begins pulling Louis in the direction of the outskirts of the dance floor. He weaves them through dancing bodies, a tight grip on Louis’ hand the whole time so they don’t get separated, and finally breaks through the outer rim to free them from the throng of clubgoers.

Harry is unsteady on his feet when Louis comes up to him and places hands on his waist. “You gonna make it, Curly?” he asks, grinning when Harry smiles at him with a wide, dimpled look.

“I think I need water,” Harry admits. “I’d forgotten how much I like rum.”

“You’re such a liar,” Louis laughs and pecks him on the lips. “C’mon. I think we’re both dehydrated.”

Louis manages to score them both bottles of water from the bar and they fight to the side of the club where they see one or two vacant booths. They collapse down across from each other and chug from their bottles in silence for a moment. Harry finishes his off first and drops his head back against the soft, puffy back of the booth, his eyes blinking blearily at Louis.

“Did I tell you already how hot you look?” he mumbles, raking his eyes over Louis’ torso.

Louis giggles and a few drops of water spill from the corner of his mouth, which just makes him laugh more. Fuck, he’s drunk.

“Could always hear it again,” Louis replies. “It’s nice to know when my effort is appreciated.”

“You look so hot,” Harry goes on. “If we weren’t in public I’d tear that shirt right off of you.”

Louis had pulled out this black button down shirt he found shoved in the back of his closet when he’d packed, thinking it couldn’t hurt to have an extra shirt with an actual collar. When he was selecting his outfit to go clubbing, he’d decided against his tees and the tanks he’d brought along because it was actually kind of cold out. He’s even grateful for the sleeves now, sweat starting to cool on his skin the longer he sits.

“I wouldn’t have to do much tearing of your shirt, Curly,” Louis says, nodding towards Harry.

Harry grins and glances down at his own practically see-through black shirt with the buttons barely holding it together with how few are actually buttoned. It had started off buttoned more, but in classic Harry form, he unbuttoned one button. Then another. Then another. Louis isn’t complaining, of course. It’s giving him a completely unobstructed view of Harry’s chest: the light hair littering his pecs and trailing into his jeans, his tattoos that catch the strobe lights and glisten in different colors, his _neck_. No. Louis isn’t complaining.

“Remember when we did body shots?” Louis asks, letting his eyes linger over the two laurels just peeking out from beneath Harry’s shirts.

There’s a beat of silence and when Louis looks back up to Harry’s face, Harry’s gaze has zeroed in on him. He’s biting his lip. “How could I forget? I think I was hard for days after that.”

Oh, this will be fun.

“You looked so pretty, Haz. We hadn’t even kissed yet and I just wanted to get my mouth on you.”

“I know,” Harry agrees. “Your collarbones were haunting me.”

Louis laughs. “I was so pissed at Tom,” he adds, “when I saw him do that to you. He barely even touched you and all I could think was how much it should’ve been me.”

“I did that to make you jealous,” Harry confesses, looking a little bit guilty.

Louis’ eyes flash but he says, “I kinda figured that. It worked.”

“You were ignoring me all night,” Harry keeps going. “So I wanted to get your attention.”

“I couldn’t look at you too long and not touch you,” Louis tells him. He feels his own eyes widen, blood beating loud in his head and heart. “We weren’t there yet. And I was drunk. I didn’t want to fuck things up.”

Harry gets up and slides into the booth next to Louis, snuggling in next to him. They’re touching from their shoulders all the way down to their thighs. Louis’ skin burns from the contact, a pleasant buzzing in his skin at all the places they brush together.

Harry leans over and kisses Louis’ exposed ear. In a gruff, soft voice, he says, “I wanted you so bad that night.”

Louis shivers in spite of himself, chilled from the sweat and the tingle of air from Harry’s breath against his face and hearing Harry’s voice echo in his ear and in his head. When he turns his face, Harry is staring at him intently, eyes almost crossed from how close their faces are and pupils dilated, from the alcohol or this conversation or maybe both.

“Me too,” Louis replies. “And if we hadn’t been hammered I probably would have done something else about it.”

Harry smiles at him, soft and understanding and just a little bit wicked. “What would you have done?”

Louis’ breath catches. The pounding music overhead is muffled by the blood racing through his veins, pounding in his ears and heading straight south. Harry is just watching him, eyes peeled to Louis’ face as he keeps grinning at him expectantly.

It’s Harry’s smug face that kicks him into gear. He leans over and presses his lips to the shell of Harry’s ear, blowing a hot breath over his skin. “I’d rather show you.”

He feels Harry shiver next to him and then feels a tug at his arm. “I think I’ve had enough clubbing for one night. What about you?” Harry’s eyes are blown dark and wide, his hair a curly mess from the heat of the club. He looks debauched and they haven’t even done anything.

“I think we should find Niall and Liam,” Louis says and then he’s being tugged from the booth.

It takes them a couple of minutes to find Niall and Liam but they’re more or less where they left them.

“We’re going back to the hotel!” Louis shouts over the din. “Are you coming too?”

Niall looks at Liam, who shrugs. “We’ll head back in a bit!” Niall yells back.

“Stick together!” Harry warns them. He apparently becomes the mum of the group when Liam is otherwise engaged.

“We will! Be careful!” Liam replies.

They don’t attempt hugs because there are too many people and before long, they’re being forced apart by the dancing crowd. Harry latches his hand onto Louis’ and begins to pull him away, pushing his way through bodies until they break back through to the outskirts of the throng. He keeps pulling Louis until they reach the coat check and retrieve their jackets.

Breaking back out into the cool air is reinvigorating. It clears Louis’ lungs and breaks through the fog in his brain from being in the crowded, hot club for so long. Once they’ve properly shrugged back on their coats and get their bearings, he reaches for Harry’s hand again and they begin walking back to their hotel. They’d chosen a club nearby so they wouldn’t have to pay for a taxi.

They walk quickly back to the hotel, weaving around other late night partygoers on the streets as they navigate the roads. Louis is relieved when they finally see the glowing lights of their hotel looming above them and they duck inside. The lobby is quiet as they head towards the elevators and they are, thankfully, the only two in theirs because as soon as the doors ding shut Harry has Louis pinned to the wall.

“Haz, hit the floor,” Louis mumbles as Harry attaches his mouth to his throat.

Harry blindly reaches behind him and huffs when he can't fully reach, so he turns and punches the button for their floor with a bit more gusto than is strictly necessary. When he turns back around, his eyes are wide and all the green is gone. He licks his lips and Louis can't help the way his own eyes linger on them. He feels blood pounding in his ears as Harry watches him, can feel the air thick around them as it settles over the quiet little space they've found themselves in.

Harry grins as he leans in and begins to nuzzle his face into Louis’ neck. “I believe you said something about showing me,” he says into Louis’ skin.

“That I did, Harold,” Louis replies. His brain is foggy feeling Harry's hot breath on his neck, the way his curls are starting to tickle his exposed skin. Harry's got his back flush to the wall, their hips aligned as he keeps Louis in place.

“So how does it start?” Harry asks, and then the elevator stops and the door dings open on their floor.

“First we have privacy,” Louis jokes and gently pushes Harry off him so he can lead them down the hall into their room. He swipes his key and tugs Harry in after him, letting the door slam shut behind them.

He doesn't waste another minute before he crowds Harry back against the door and kisses him. There's no finesse to it, he just wants to be closer to him and to get his hands on him. He can feel the alcohol dragging through his blood and brain making everything hazy. Everything except the boy in front of him who's reaching between them and unbuttoning his shirt.

Louis pushes the material from Harry's shoulders and grips his arms, holding him in place as he starts to kiss his way down his neck to his pecs.

“I'd have started by undoing your jeans,” Louis says and he kisses his way farther down until he's on his knees and running his tongue over the laurels inked into Harry's smooth skin. “Not all the way. Just enough to get you hot.”

“Fuck, Louis,” Harry mutters, his head dropping against the door and making a loud thud.

Louis undoes the button and zipper to Harry's jeans and opens them up. He leans forward and kisses Harry's stomach.

“I'd tease you a bit,” Louis goes on.

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry groans. “Come on.”

Louis laughs. “You wanted to know how I'd have done it, babe. This is how.”

“If I take it back will you fuck me sooner?” Harry asks.

“Nope,” Louis answers, his lips popping on the end of the word. “Gonna make you wait for it. Like I'd have made you wait for it that night.”

“Fuck,” Harry says. His eyes drop shut and he thrusts forward almost imperceptibly, craving Louis’ touch back on him. “What next, then?”

“I'd have asked your permission to suck your cock,” Louis says casually, grinning when Harry moans.

“I'd have given you permission,” Harry replies. “Now, please, Louis, come on.”

Louis laughs and tugs down Harry's jeans and boxer briefs just to the top of his thighs. With his cock now exposed to the cold hotel room air, Harry hisses and latches his hand into Louis’ hair. Louis takes that as a sign and wraps his lips around the tip, barely even sucking, just enough so Harry's starting to squirm.

“Louis,” he groans, “Jesus Christ.”

Louis slips his mouth off. “I'd keep doing this,” he says, licking a stripe up the side. “I'd suck you till you were going to come.”

And he does. This time, when he reattaches his mouth, he takes Harry all the way down. He can feel the way Harry's nails scrape at his scalp as he forces his head down. He relaxes his throat once, enough so Harry hits the back of it, and he pulls off. He bobs his head in time with Harry's strained breathing, running his tongue along the underside and suckling at the tip. He keeps going until his jaw begins to ache in earnest, until Harry’s grip on his hair is bordering on painful, before he starts to ease off. When he looks down, Harry's cock is flushed and wet and so, so hard that he feels like he could come himself from the sight.

Louis starts to kiss his way back up Harry's torso until he's standing again and he can kiss him, wrapping his hands around his neck and pressing hot, desperate kisses to Harry's swollen lips.

“I'd kiss you some more,” Louis says on a breath. “I knew I'd love kissing you.”

“Love kissing you, too,” Harry pants. “Then what?”

“I'd get you naked,” Louis replies, reaching down and pushing at Harry's jeans. Harry gets the hint and helps, kicking them to the floor. Louis has him pinned to the door again, completely bare and hard and all for him.

“Are you getting naked at any point in this scenario?” Harry jokes, poking at Louis’ still clothed chest.

“Patience is a virtue, Harold,” Louis says and rolls his eyes. “Once I had you naked I would have ripped off my own clothes.”

Harry bursts into laughter and runs his hands down Louis’ bare arms. “Would you have let me help?”

“‘Course,” Louis says. “C’mon, then.”

Together they pull Louis’ shirt over his head and toss it to the ground. Harry unbuttons Louis’ jeans and giggles when Louis’ leg gets caught. When Louis is also naked, he reaches for Harry's hand and pulls him away from the door.

“What?” Harry asks.

“This is the next part,” Louis answers. He leads Harry into the dark bathroom, flicking on only the heat lamp. He pushes the door shut halfway and then turns to the shower, twisting the nozzle so the cool spray starts to cascade down. He twists until he's satisfied that it's warming up and then he steps into the tub.

“The next part,” he says, beckoning with his chin so Harry will follow, “would have been bringing you into our shower.”

“Really?” Harry says slowly, a smirk overtaking his face. “And why's that?”

“I'd have brought you into our shower,” Louis continues as he steps under the spray. His hair gets the hit first and starts to get matted along his forehead. He pulls on Harry's hand until he steps under the spray too. “I would have gotten you all nice and clean, gotten all the sweat and tequila off of you.”

He reaches for their bottle of body wash and squirts some into his hand, rubbing his hands together to create a soapy lather. Harry just smiles as Louis begins to massage the body wash into his skin, along his chest and belly and hips. Harry's hair hits his shoulders, the long curls drenched and springing up in odd places. Harry lets himself be washed then rinsed off before he reaches for the body wash himself.

“I'd have insisted I do the same for you,” Harry whispers and, well, Louis can't argue with that.

Harry is methodical as he soaps up Louis’ body, paying careful attention to his belly and waist. He squeezes the soft skin there which has Louis laughing and Harry leaning in to kiss the smile right off his face.

When Louis has the body wash rinsed from his own skin, he takes his time running his hands along Harry's warm, wet skin, reveling in feeling the water under his fingertips, hearing Harry's breath catch when he rubs over the extra nipples. Harry seems content to let him do whatever he wants, is quiet as Louis gives himself a moment to appreciate just how beautiful Harry is.

He's got important matters to attend to, though. Harry's still hard, his cock hanging between them neglected, and Louis can feel his own cock ache with the need for release too.

“Next,” he says roughly, his voice deep and scratchy, “I'd have turned you around so your front is to the wall.”

As if on cue, Harry turns so he's facing the wall and Louis crowds up behind him, kissing his shoulder.

“I would have fingered you open like this,” Louis says into Harry's ear. “Gotten you nice and stretched for me.”

“Yes, Louis, please,” Harry groans.

Louis reaches for the bottle of lube he'd stashed with their bottles of shampoo and body wash, amused Harry didn't seem to notice it or the condom packets Louis had also shoved there for potential opportunities like this.

“Do you want my fingers, babe?” Louis asks, already starting to coat his fingers.

“Yes,” Harry answers, forehead pressed to the wall.

Louis rubs one finger along Harry's hole and begins to press in. He keeps going even when Harry chokes on a breath, knows he likes feeling full and stretched, even when it hurts a little. Before long, Louis is adding a second finger and beginning to scissor them. Harry begins to thrust forward and grind back onto Louis’ fingers, little moans escaping from his lips.

When Louis adds a third finger, he searches out Harry's prostate. He reaches for Harry's hip and stills him, not wanting him to come yet. Harry whines but lets Louis continue to finger him open. He cries out when Louis brushes his prostate. Louis watches the way the muscles in Harry's back tense as Louis massages his prostate over and over. He watches the little trails of drops of water as they run down Harry's back. He only strokes Harry a few more times before gently pulls his fingers out.

He grabs for a condom and fights with the wrapper with slippery fingers before finally ripping it open. “I'd have kept you here,” Louis says quietly as he rolls on the condom. “Right here, just like this. And I'd have fucked into you so slowly.”

“Louis, _please_ ,” Harry moans.

Louis lines himself up and presses in, keeps going until he bottoms out and his hips are flush with Harry's arse. He presses wet, open-mouthed kisses to Harry's back and neck while Harry adjusts to the stretch. When Harry begins to grind back onto his cock, Louis withdraws and slowly pushes back in.

It's hard to hear over the water pounding against the walls of the shower, but Louis knows Harry is gasping every time Louis thrusts back in and brushes his prostate. Louis is relentless. He keeps Harry up against the wall, his hands gripping the soft skin of his waist as he thrusts in again and again.

“Gonna come,” Harry says.

Louis reaches around and wraps a hand around Harry's cock. He starts to stroke it in time with his thrusts. “Come on, baby. Want you to come.”

Harry’s hands, which had been slipping on the shower walls as he tried to gain purchase, grip Louis’ hips and hold him deep inside as Harry lets out a groan and a hissed “ _Fuck_ ” when he comes. He shoots against the wall, the evidence running down the side before it's quickly washed away by the running water.

Louis stays inside Harry as Harry regains control of his breathing. He slowly slips out and turns Harry around so he can back him up to the wall and kiss him again.

Harry hums happily as Louis tongues into his mouth and rubs a soothing hand along his arm. Louis barely notices it when Harry reaches down between them and pulls off the condom, immediately wrapping his hand around Louis’ cock. It only takes a few strokes before Louis moans into Harry's mouth and comes. He comes into Harry's hand and onto the shower floor, a warm satisfaction spreading through his veins as he feels the release swim through him.

When their kisses have slowed, and the water has turned lukewarm, Louis leans down and twists the nozzle to cut the water. He pushes the shower curtain aside and grabs for a towel from the rack next to the shower, immediately turning to Harry and rubbing it over his skin to dry him first.

Harry laughs and tugs it from Louis’ hands. “I'm good, Louis. Come on, dry off before you get pneumonia.”

Louis does get his own towel but spends less time drying off. He does a cursory rub through his hair as he steps out of the tub and runs it along his body, but then he tosses it back into the rack.

“C’mon,” he says, taking Harry's free hand. “Time to get you in bed, Haz.”

Harry tosses his own towel so it lands next to Louis’ and flicks off the heat lamp as they exit the bathroom. Louis throws off the covers and climbs into bed. Harry climbs in after him and lays down on his side, back facing Louis.

Louis pulls the covers up over them and immediately attaches himself to Harry's back, draping an arm over Harry's waist and resting his forehead to the back of Harry's neck.

Louis can feel his eyes starting to drift shut, but he forces himself awake enough to ask, “So would that have effectively wooed you, Curly?”

Louis falls asleep to Harry's giggles and a whispered, “Absolutely.”

\----

It turns out no one is hungover the next morning. Niall and Liam knock on the door at 10 am, and by the time Harry rolls out of bed, finds pants, answers the door, he’s only mildly awake.

He rubs at his eyes to make sure he’s seeing the sight in front of him correctly.

“Niall,” Harry cautions, “why is Liam blindfolded?”

He hears Louis titter from the bed. “Oi, what are you two getting up to in that room? Do I need to call Trevor?”

Niall cackles as Liam huffs and pulls off the blindfold hastily. “Niall had the bright idea to blindfold us all and him guide us to where we were going today. It’s apparently a surprise,” he grumbles.

Harry throws Niall a look. “You wanted to blindfold three men and walk them to a destination in a foreign country? What kind of idea is that, Niall?”

Niall shrugs. “Wanted to see if Liam would do it.”

Liam whacks him so hard that Harry is convinced Niall sees stars.

“Get your clothes on. Dress for outside weather, but maybe bring a jacket or sweatshirt. We’ll be out all day,” Niall directs as he rubs at his head, glaring at Liam.

Liam laughs, eyes crinkling. Harry gives him a high-five.

“Nothing too fancy,” Niall adds as he turns to leave the doorway. “We’ll go pick up some breakfast down the street before we go. Liam’s paying.”

Niall runs off before Liam can argue. Harry gives him a ‘you better run’ look, and Liam runs after him.

“Be safe my little children!” Louis calls from the bed.

Harry giggles as he closes the door, Liam and Niall flipping them off. They’ll come around to the idea.

“Well we showered last night babe, that gives us an extra twenty minutes, I’d say,” Harry grins as he steps toward his boyfriend, still naked in bed.

Louis smiles wolfishly and pats the bed. “What ever will we do?” he asks coyly.

Harry takes off his pants.

\----

“Where are we going, Niall?” Louis whines for the fifth time since they left the hotel.

Harry just squeezes Louis’ fingers tighter, trying not to laugh. Walking through the city is beautiful, but even Harry admits, he’s getting tired of all the turns Niall is uselessly making. He can tell Niall’s just wasting time and trying to throw them off. They all can.

Finally Niall takes a left, and they’re all staring straight at the sea. The sun reflects off it beautifully in the distance, and the smell of salt becomes apparent in the air.

“We’re going to the beach?” Liam asks, trying to guess what’s going on. Harry can tell by the twitch of Liam’s fingers, he’s mildly nervous about what Niall has planned.

Niall grins and doesn’t say a word as he leads them down two more streets. Two rights and then a left.

Harry’s starting to work up a sweat as they keep on walking, the pace that Niall is keeping up is brutal. He’s practically speed walking, and they were idly chatting when they had started this mission but now everyone is anxious and just ready to see what it is. Harry can practically feel the mild annoyance oozing from Louis next to him. He’s got no idea what they’re walking into and the sea is just getting closer and closer.

There’s suddenly a dock up ahead, and Harry realizes they’re heading straight toward it.

He nudges Louis in excitement.

The tight line of Louis’ mouth disappears, and Louis’ eyes light up, a gorgeous shade of cerulean that matches the sea in front of them.

They both wiggle their eyebrows at Liam, who stares in some sort of shock. They finally stop at a dock, a sailboat heading towards them.

Niall turns to them, looking very serious. Harry’s heart is mildly hammering.

“My friends. My very best friends,” Niall drawls. Harry can’t fucking stand him, and Louis and Liam are rolling their eyes. “You’re looking at our ride for the entire day,” Niall sweeps his arms exaggeratedly towards the sailboat that’s just coming into the dock.

Their jaws drop, and Harry’s stomach swoops.

It’s a gorgeous boat, with white sails, wooden interior deck, and the name “La Rosa” adorned on the side in cursive .

“No fucking way,” Liam rubs at his chin in disbelief.

Harry and Louis laugh wildly and gather Niall in a tight hug, whooping and clapping him on the back.

“Hola Niall!” a man calls from the sailboat as brings into the dock, throwing a rope to tie it up.

“Ruiz! Como estas mi amigo?” Niall hugs the older man as he steps off the boat to continue his ties. He’s wearing a floral print shirt that rivals Harry’s own (and one that he wants in his closet immediately), his tan skin seemingly kissed by the sun. A woman of about the same age appears from under the deck to help make sure all the ties are secure, her sun dress blowing in the wind.

“Bien,” Ruiz says with a large smile. “Son tus amigos?”

“Si. ¡Estamos listos! Hola Marta! Estás muy bonita hoy.”

Marta laughs, as she tries to manage her brown curls as the wind blows. There’s a nice wind now that they’re at the dock, and something tells Harry that it’s a perfect day for a sail.

The question of how Niall knows this couple looms over them. Louis, Liam, and Harry look at each other curiously. Harry had no idea Niall even knew Spanish, let alone had friends in Barcelona.

Niall finally turns to them again. “These are my friends Harry, Louis, and Liam. The ones I told you about on the phone.”

“Ah,” Ruiz smiles. “Nice to meet you, encantada.”

Ruiz kisses each of their cheeks, his smile completely infectious. Harry is enchanted immediately and he can tell the other boys are just the same.

“I am Ruiz and this is my wife, mi esposa, Marta. We’re going to take you out today on ‘La Rosa’ so you can see the true Barcelona. The Barcelona from the sea.”

“¿Estás listos?” Marta asks.

“Si,” Niall replies happily. “You guys ready?”

Ruiz helps Liam step onto the boat, and then helps Harry, who helps Louis.

Louis’ eyes are sparkling, and Harry has never been more excited in his life. They’re going to have a sailboat to themselves for the entire day to do nothing but be on the water and watch the coastline. Liam looks the most excited the entire trip, all wonders of how they even got here forgotten. The sea is a clear blue, and as they look outwards, there’s nothing but blue skies and blue waters.

They watch as Ruiz and Marta get the boat ready to leave the dock. They work seamlessly together, even though they have to be in their late fifties, and Ruiz even gives Marta a kiss when he passes her on the way back to the wheel.

“She’s been my partner for 30 years,” Ruiz tells them. “I haven’t pushed her overboard yet,” he winks.

Louis catches Harry’s eye, eyes bright, and the laugh that had been bubbling dies in his throat. For one heated moment Harry thinks, that could be us. He imagines them on a sailboat of their own, working as a team and sailing the world. Going to every place they ever dreamed.

He winks at Louis, blush high on his cheeks.

Ruiz explains the boat to them as the city gets smaller and smaller, everything from how to hoist sails to how fast they’re going to the winds that they’ll be using. Harry’s listening so intently to Ruiz, he doesn’t even hear the question Louis asks him, until Louis is standing up and looking at him expectantly.

“I’m sorry what?” Harry asks, standing up anyway to follow Louis, leaving Ruiz to explain the rest to Liam and Niall.

“Marta asked if we wanted to hoist the sails. Come on,” Louis steps out onto the deck, following Marta, her slim body maneuvering around the boat like an expert. .

“Ruiz always talk, talk, talk, but the real way you learn boys, is to do,” Marta smiles. “Come on, you two can help me. I can tell you’ve got potential.”

Harry and Louis bump fists, giving each other a grin, before following Marta’s careful directions. She just talks them through it, giving them directions as slow as they need. She only fixes Harry’s hands once, Louis seemingly an expert already. They work together to hoist the sails, struggling with the rope, before cheering when the sails are finally out, blowing in the wind.

“We did it!” Harry yells, before hugging Louis and then hugging Marta as she giggles at their happiness.

Marta looks between them knowingly. “You two are a very good team.”

Harry’s heart flutters and can feel his face heat up. He knows they are a very good team. They’re a great team. They tell each other that all the time. But hearing a woman who barely knows them tell them that while they’re floating in the middle of the sea on a gorgeous day? Harry can’t quite believe he’s so lucky. Louis leans up and kisses Harry’s cheek. “Maybe I won’t throw him overboard,” he winks.

Marta’s laugh resonates throughout the boat and Harry’s helpless to follow along.

\----

Harry snaps some photos as the city coastline almost disappears, instead replacing it with rocky cliffs and small villages up on hills.

It’s absolutely breathtaking.

“Loving the view?” Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, nuzzling into the space between his shoulder blades, a space Harry’s convinced was carved just for Louis.

“It’s gorgeous out here.”

The waves are gentle as the boat slows down, stopping at a concave where the rocks and greenland are positively stunning. There are no other boats around, a seemingly secret location.

“We’re going to put the anchor down. We’re close enough inland and the water’s beautiful today, you boys can swim,” Ruiz calls to them. Niall and Liam are sitting close by, faces calm and relaxed.

Harry and Louis are about to decline, sadly, when Niall reaches into his backpack. “I’ve got everyone’s suits here.”

Harry shakes his head in surprise. “Niall James Horan. I can’t quite believe you’re real.”

Louis pinches his cheeks and Liam looks like he’s so happy he’s going to cry, clinging onto Niall for dear life.

They walk down to the quarters below, where Marta and Ruiz have set up their home, and change quickly.

“Can’t wait to jump off a sailboat with you, Curly,” Louis whispers in Harry’s ear, kissing him quick right below his earlobe.

Harry swallows, following after him eagerly as they Ruiz directs them where they can jump off, by stripping off his shirt and jumping in first.

Marta cheers loudly, laughing gleefully.

Niall tackles Liam into the water, laughing at Liam’s utter surprise when they float back up.

“I’m going to actually kill you by the end of this trip,” Liam tells him, but the sparkle in his eye is so bright, Harry’s sure he might name his firstborn after Niall at this rate.

“You ready, love?” Louis asks, grabbing Harry’s hand. “I’ll be nice, we’ll jump on the count of three.”

Harry kisses the back of Louis’ hand, counting up with him before yelling, “Three!”.

They both jump, laughter caught in their throats as they submerge in the warm crystal blue water.

Ruiz retreats back onto the boat, as they all swim around, looking for fish, splashing each other, and floating on the surface of the water.

Niall and Liam head to the shore to collect shells to bring back, while Harry scoops Louis into his arms, drifting happily along with the ebb and flow of the sea.

“I think this is my favorite day so far,” Harry tells him secretively. “But don’t tell Niall I said that. It’ll go to his head.”

Louis hums, the sunlight reflecting off his face making him glisten with the water. Harry’s not sure what’s more beautiful, the view or Louis smiling at him like Harry’s the only thing he sees.

“I’d quite like to kiss you now,” Harry murmurs, pulling Louis in a little closer as they float gently in the water.

“You’re asking permission?” Louis teases. His eyes truly match the sea that they’re settled in, all soft shades of blue, bright and clear.

Harry shrugs. “Feels like it’s going to be a special one.”

Louis’ faces goes soft around the edges as he gives Harry that look that Harry’s only seen him give his brother and sisters.

It’s so full of something, something that Harry feels so much of in that moment before he’s holding Louis tight against him, waves passing between them as he kisses Louis more gently than he thinks he ever has before.

They kiss to the drift of the waves, a slow sort of back and forth that makes Harry’s toes tingle.

Louis kisses him until he’s breathless, and he doesn’t know where Louis ends and he begins, floating in the clear blue sea.

\----

They're all lounging on the deck, as the sun sets and they head back. The sky is bright pink, with shades of purple, orange, and yellow highlighting it on the horizon and making the clouds glow around their edges. The colors reflect off Louis’ face like nothing Harry has ever seen before.

The waves are calming as they move slowly back to the shore. Louis buries himself deeper into Harry’s chest, as they sit and watch the sky change.

“Think I want to buy a boat now,” he tells Louis, just low enough so no one else can hear.

“Yeah?” Louis asks, eyes flickering up to him.

“Yeah, I mean later. My dad took me sailing for a couple summers when I was a kid. There's just,” Harry looks back out at the water. “There's something so freeing about it, you know? Like it’s so calm and so beautiful and it just feels like you can do anything. Like you're really free when you're in the middle of the sea.”

Louis is quiet, and Harry looks down, his cheek brushing the side of Louis’ face.

“We can be like Ruiz and Marta, then,” Louis says, so quiet that Harry can hardly believe it. Can hardly believe the boy in his arms was thinking the exact thought he had been thinking earlier.

His heart swells and he kisses the side of Louis’ head. “I was thinking the same thing, love.”

\----

They return to the hotel, exhausted but still a little high on the weightlessness of the sailboat.

Liam and Niall offer up their room for a movie later, before winking at them both and shoving them in their room.

They strip off slowly before entering the shower, the hot water washing off any excess of seawater. The suds trace every inch of their bodies as they kiss languidly under the spray of water, gentle touches coasting along wet skin.

Harry feels like he’s in heaven. The air still charged with something undeniably special. Something just for them, that feels a lot like magic.

“Want you to fuck me,” Louis whispers in between a breath of a kiss.

“Yeah?” Harry’s voice is rough. “Want me to take care of you, love?”

Louis whines, his body rocking imperceptibly against him, already hard cock slipping between Harry’s legs.

Harry groans at the sight. Louis is glistening against him, eyes already blown out. “Come on, let’s get out of the shower. Want to see you spread out on the bed.”

Louis nods, rinsing off the rest of the soap off his body, while Harry does the same. He turns off the water and grabs towels for both of them, drying himself off as he dries off Louis. Their eyes are locked as Harry switches off the bathroom light, Louis’ dark eyes boring into his and it’s so fucking intimate it hurts.

He guides Louis to the bed, Louis pliant and boneless allowing him to guide him. Their mouths are a breath away from each other, and neither of them make a move to break the heated air.

Louis falls back onto the bed, and Harry hovers over him, kissing his neck first. He goes right for the spot below his ear, biting hard and then soothing it over with his tongue. Louis arches into him, breathless gasps in Harry’s ear. It’s so fucking hot, watching Louis hand over all of the control he usually has over Harry so seamlessly.

Harry wants to make a mess of him.

He leans his weight down on Louis more, tangling their legs together as he finally kisses him, hard and thorough. He licks into Louis’ mouth, taking anything Louis will give him. Louis just allows himself to be kissed, so pliantly leaving Harry to do nothing more than rut into him shamelessly.

“Touch me,” Louis gasps out between a kiss. “Please, Harry.”

Harry kisses all the way down Louis’ chest, taking his time watching Louis’ hips grind up at every swirl of his tongue on his nipple, bellybutton, and hip.

He bites at Louis’ hips, unable to deny the curves. He’s not going to waste the opportunity now that he’s in control of this situation.

He can’t help himself.

Louis grabs Harry by the head, making him look up. Louis looks positively wrecked already, hair drying and mangled, his chest red and heaving.

Harry is so unbelievably lucky.

“Get your fingers in me now,” Louis demands, eyes sparkling only just at the edges. Harry can hear the desperation though, and it makes his stomach swoop and makes him ten times harder.

Harry mouths wetly at Louis’ cock, before heading lower to his thighs and biting down. Louis throws his head back and groans. “I’m having fun taking my time though, babe.”

Louis tangles his fingers in Harry’s hair. “If you do not get your fingers in me in the next ten seconds, I am going to turn you over and fuck _you_ instead.”

Harry pouts but quickly coats his fingers in lube from the bottle turned over on their nightstand. “While you know I’d love that,” Harry slips a finger past Louis’ rim, reveling in Louis’ unsuspecting gasp, “I would rather do this instead.”

He kisses and bites at Louis’ thighs, his hips, his nipples, anywhere he can get his mouth on until Louis’ is wet from sweat and Harry’s mouth.

“Another,” Louis gasps, on a particular hard swipe at his nipple.

Harry complies easily, licking into Louis’ mouth at the same time. Louis’ sharp intake of breath makes Harry almost giddy with the fact that he surprised Louis, and makes him high off everything about him. The way he’s writhing into the sheets and pushing back on Harry’s fingers, the needy whines he’s making.

“More, H- _arry_ ,” Louis’ voice breaks as Harry adds another finger directly hitting Louis’ prostate.

Louis rocks back on Harry’s fingers and Harry’s so drunk off of Louis, so drunk off of every movement, every kiss, every compliant and soft mewl Louis makes.

He never wants to wake up from this dream.

“‘m ready babe, please.” Louis’ voice is high, and it’s positively wrecked.

Harry wants to recreate it everyday for the rest of his life.

He reaches over to grab a condom, and a generous layer of lube, before Louis’ opening his legs and he’s lining up. Louis is watching him, a soft smile on his face.

“Are you nervous, Harold?” Louis asks, voice light. There’s a mischievous lilt in his voice.

Harry looks up at him, and realizes his hands had been shaking.

“Want this to be good for you, love,” Harry admits, ears burning.

Louis gives him that soft look before kissing him softly, sweetly. “Already the best I’ve ever had, Harry.”

Harry kisses him again, cock nudging Louis’ hole.

“But if you don’t get in me now,” Louis starts, smirk on his lips.

Harry pushes in, swallowing the gasp Louis makes, and kissing him breathless.

He rocks slowly, the hot heat of Louis almost too much for him to handle.

“Gorgeous,” Harry pulls away, running his hands all over Louis body as he kisses his neck. “So gorgeous, so good, Lou. Always so good to me.”

Louis whines, a high breathless sort of sound that has Harry picking up his pace.

“Can’t believe you’re all mine,” Harry continues, biting at Louis’ collarbones. “Can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

Louis moans brokenly, and his breathing picks up.

Harry lifts Louis’ legs higher, changing the angle, making Louis cry out as Harry hits his prostate dead on, again and again.

“There,” Louis groans.

  
Harry sets a brutal pace, skin slapping as Louis gasps, moans, and whines as Harry keeps at his prostate, before he feels Louis clench around him, making Harry’s eyes roll to the back of his head, while Louis comes hotly between them.

“Come on, love.” Louis’ voice is soft and fucked out, leaving Harry to do nothing but succumb to the hot heat around him, and within seconds he’s coming.

Harry settles his head into Louis’ chest, as they both try to catch their breath.

“That was,” Harry starts. “That was the best thing I’ve experienced in my life.”

Louis laughs, kissing Harry on the top of his sweaty head. “Better than the sailboat today?”

Harry’s grin is unstoppable. “What boat?”

\----

Playa Mar Bella is absolutely gorgeous and literally everything Louis is hoping for when they step onto the warm sand. It's a sunny day, a bit breezy from the ocean air and it feels like endless possibilities await them as they walk closer to the shoreline. He's walking behind Harry and Liam who are walking way behind Niall, who insisted he run ahead to secure them a good spot.

They spot his blonde head and purple swim trunks drop his towel, sunglasses, and then his bathing suit. Louis can't help the laughter that bubbles up in his throat when he sees Niall turn to face the sea, pale arse completely on display, and raise his arms to his side like he's waiting for Jack Dawson to come up behind him and help him fly.

He hears Liam's groan and nervous laughter as they get closer to where Niall is exposing himself for all the beach to see, eyes glued ahead to avoid seeing two girls suntanning topless under a beach umbrella and a lone wrinkly old man reading a newspaper in a beach chair. Louis can hear Harry giggling too.

“This is the worst thing I've ever experienced,” Liam whines. “Why did we let Niall talk us into going to a nude beach?”

“You don't have to be nude, Liam,” Harry reminds him, gesturing to the other beachgoers choosing to remain clothed.

Louis pushes his way between them and drapes an arm over Liam's shoulder. “Oh yes he does,” Louis counters. “I'm taking a picture and sending it to Trevor. I'll caption it ‘wank fodder’.”

Liam’s ears burn as he glares at Louis, and that only makes Harry laugh harder. “We aren't all exhibitionists, Tommo.”

Harry and Louis cackle the rest of their walk to Niall’s chosen spot. Niall, still standing stark naked in the Barcelona sun, turns to them and claps his hands together. “Alright, lads. Drop ‘em.”

Liam doesn't move as Harry drops his towel, kicks off his sandals, and pulls off his sinfully short yellow swim trunks in one move. Liam resolutely keeps his eyes averted to the sky. Louis hears him mutter, “Jesus Christ.”

Louis more carefully steps out of his shoes and tugs at the waistband of his trunks. “Don't you think it's a bit strange you're so excited to get three gay men naked in front of you?”

That gets Liam to giggle and Louis counts it as a success.

Niall just rolls his eyes. “It's a nude beach. We're taking advantage of this. I've already seen all your dicks before and I'm still a perfectly content straight man. So let's see the goods, Tommo.”

Louis grins and shrugs and pulls his trunks the rest of the way off. He doesn't miss Harry's quick intake of breath next to him, or the hand that's found its way around his waist.

Niall gives Liam a once-over. “Alright, Payno. Don't get shy on me.”

Liam blushes. “I'm only doing this so I can cross it off my bucket list.” Then he pulls off his trunks.

“Woohoo!” Niall cheers. “Alright so the water might be cold and our balls will probably shrink, but who's ready for a swim?”

Liam shoves his shoulder and taunts, “Race ya!”

“You're on, Payne!” Niall hoots.

The next second, sand is being kicked up at their legs as Liam and Niall race to the water’s edge and tackle each other into the foam. They watch them resurface, hair plastered to their heads and faces glistening with water. Louis is pretty sure he hears Liam scream, “Oh, fuck that's cold!”

“So ‘m a bit jealous everyone gets to see you like this,” Harry whispers in his ear and digs his fingers into the flesh of his waist.

“I'm a bit mad your cock is out and I can't do anything to it without being arrested for sex in public,” Louis replies, twisting his head to smirk at Harry.

“Ugh,” Harry groans, dropping his forehead to Louis’ shoulder. “Don't. I'll get hard.”

“We literally exchanged blowjobs less than two hours ago,” Louis giggles.

Harry looks up and pins Louis with a look that clearly says, ‘And your point is?’

Louis laughs and grabs Harry's hand, giving it a gentle tug. “C’mon. Let's test the water.”

Harry tangles their fingers together and they walk slowly towards the water. Feeling the sun on every inch of his body, the salty air licking at all his exposed skin, makes Louis feel alive in a way he didn't expect. He's not sure he would have ever thought to do this before Niall suggested it, but he kind of loves it. He's not worried about what he looks like, only enjoying how it feels to be here with his boyfriend and his best friends. It's liberating, being completely bare and so at peace with where he's at.

Harry, though… Harry is a fucking vision. He's gotten a bit tanner over their time in Barcelona, skin a sun-kissed brown. The air is blowing his curls every which way and Harry keeps pushing them back off his face. His green eyes are bright and he's got a happy smile on his face as he swings their hands gently back and forth as they walk.

“You're beautiful,” Louis tells him, because he wants to and because he can and because it's true.

Harry grins back, cheeks dimpling and teeth on display in an awkward smile. “Stop talking about yourself.”

They reach the water and carefully step into it. It is cold, cold enough that causes Louis to shiver and take a step back. It was warmer the day they took their boat trip, warm enough where they could still feel their limbs even after spending a couple of hours in and out of the water. It feels like pinpricks of ice are cutting into his skin, nerves becoming numb the longer he stands there. Slowly they take another step in, then another, until the water is up to their calves and Louis can't quite feel his feet.

Louis nudges Harry with his shoulder until Harry turns to face him. Louis drops his hand and brings it up to cup his face, pulling him in for a kiss. It's sweet and soft, warming even Louis’ frozen legs, and he feels Harry hum happily into the kiss. Kissing Harry always feels right, but this feels different too. New. Every new experience with Harry is an adventure, and he feels an easy contentment at knowing they're in this together.

Harry has just begun to really respond to the kiss, tongue gliding along the seam of Louis’ lips, when Louis slowly pulls back.

“Hey, Styles,” Louis whispers.

“Hmm?” Harry asks, eyes closed and lips still parted.

“Hold your breath.” And Louis tugs them both into the ocean.

\----

They spend the rest of the afternoon at the beach. They emerge from the ocean fairly quickly when Niall nearly pierces his dick on a broken sea shell. They redress and sprawl themselves out on the sand to dry, listening to the waves and chatter happening nearby. They watch the clouds and point out shapes. Harry dozes with his head on Louis’ shoulder.

They stop on their way back to the hotel and get food to bring back to eat in their rooms. Harry is a little burnt from the sun, they all have sandy, messy hair from the water, and relaxing in the sun turned out to be surprisingly taxing, so they all agree that vegging in the hotel sounds perfect. They put on the TV and laugh when the only channels that don't have the news are entirely in Spanish, forcing them to resort to Niall’s broken translation of a soap opera complete with added commentary.

When Niall and Liam return to their room for the night, Harry and Louis shut off the TV and curl up together on their bed.

“We should shower,” Harry mumbles into Louis’ neck. “We’re getting sand everywhere.”

“And you wanted to fuck on the beach,” Louis replies, giggling when Harry slaps his arm.

“And I still do,” Harry replies, nuzzling further into Louis’ skin. He can smell the sand and sun on him, and the sunscreen that he’d rubbed into his shoulders and face earlier when Louis started to get pink. “Though maybe on a towel.”

Louis laughs and begins to rub Harry’s head, fingers tangling in the curls and tugging on the springy bits. He massages his scalp and Harry can feel granules of sand shaking out onto the pillow case, but he doesn’t mind in the least. Not when Louis’ fingers are scraping along his head in a soft, gentle circular motion that has him humming.

“Curly,” Louis says quietly, fingers stilling in Harry’s hair.

“Hmm?” Harry replies. He just wants Louis to go back to rubbing his head.

“I was thinking,” Louis begins slowly.

“A welcome change,” Harry mutters, and barks a laugh when Louis hits him in the arm.

“Arsehole,” Louis says and when Harry looks up he’s grinning down at him, eyes crossed in the middle.

“What, love?” Harry asks, sitting up fully so he’s now looking down at Louis.

“I was _thinking_ ,” Louis begins again. “I wondered if you might want to try something?”

“What’s that?”

In response, Louis pushes Harry off him and stands. He’s still in his bright blue swim trunks, the ones Harry told him to buy because they make his eyes glow even bluer. He watches as Louis walks to the corner of the room where a few paper and plastic bags have accumulated, mostly with souvenirs from the trip for their families. He bends over, giving Harry a much appreciated view of the muscles stretching in Louis’ lower back, not to mention his bum. When he stands up, he’s clutching something in his hand. Something blue.

When Louis climbs back onto the bed, he kneels on his knees and opens his hand. A piece of fabric unfolds, blue with white stars on it.

“A headscarf?” Harry clarifies, leaning forward to rub his hand over the material.

“I know we talked about...trying things,” Louis says slowly. “And I thought…”

“You thought?” Harry prods.

Louis takes a deep breath and pulls each end of the headscarf out so it’s stretched in front of him. “I thought I might try blindfolding you.”

Breaching the subject seems to have taken all the wind out of Louis’ sails, as he instantly heaves a sigh and drops the headscarf to the bed in front of them. He sits back on his legs and watches Harry, lower lip between his teeth.

Harry’s brain actually short-circuited the moment Louis said “blindfolding.” He knows Louis is waiting for a reply, but all he can do is reach out to touch the scarf again. It’s soft and smooth under his fingers, the scarf obviously pretty high quality. Harry vaguely remembers when they stopped in a shop on their first day in Barcelona with all kinds of scarves on display. He doesn’t remember Louis buying one, but he must have that day. Meaning he’s been holding onto it for days. He’s been thinking about it for at _least_ that long. Suddenly, Harry can’t breathe.

“This was a dumb idea,” Louis mutters. “We don’t have to. It’s too fast, right? I thought it might be, but then I thought you might like it, and I definitely wanted to try it with you, but-”

It’s as he reaches out to grab the scarf again that Harry stills his hand, fingers stretched around his wrist to keep him from taking the scarf.

“Yes,” he says. “I want to.”

Louis’ eyebrows shoot up. “You do?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want you to say yes because you _think_ I want you to say yes,” Louis says seriously. “I know we’ve been experimenting a little, but this is different.”

“I know it is,” Harry nods. “And I think we should talk about it. But I’m still saying yes.”

Louis heaves a breath and Harry watches the expressions change over his face. Excitement and nerves and maybe a little bit of self-doubt. Harry takes his other hand and rubs it along Louis’ arm.

“Look,” Harry says quietly, “I don’t want you to get nervous or bashful every time you suggest something, okay? I love that you’re thinking about it and thinking of things we can do. I love even _more_ that you’re trying to take care of me. But we’re in this together, yeah? So when you think of something, I promise you you’re not going to freak me out.”

Louis lets out another breath and flips his hand so their fingers tangle together over the scarf still resting on the bed. “It’s all so new, you know? I didn’t want to come on too strong.”

“You’re not,” Harry replies. “I promise you’re not.”

“I just was doing some reading,” Louis goes on, “about, like, sensory stuff? About people who like blindfolding because it makes their other senses pique. When you can’t see you rely on touch and sound and smell and taste and I thought that might be something you might like to try.”

Harry nods. He’s read a bit about it himself, finding the whole idea extremely appealing. One of his favorite things about being with Louis is _seeing_ him. He is truly the most beautiful person Harry has ever seen, and he’s seen him in so many ways. Eyes dark and blazing when he’s angry, like when they first met. Face soft and fond when he’s talking about his family or his students. Lips bitten red and eyes blown black when they have sex, the tension in his face and gasps he makes when he’s about to come. Seeing Louis is a privilege in all forms.

But _not_ being able to see him? Relying on his voice to coax him through it, hearing all the lovely sounds he makes… Feeling his muscles under his hands, through his back and shoulders and waist… Getting to kiss him and taste him all at the same time. Having it all heightened because Harry gets that instead of seeing him. Yeah, Harry is fully on board with that.

“I want to,” Harry repeats. “I want to try it with you. I trust you.”

In lieu of a reply, Louis leans forward and kisses Harry. He squeezes the hand he’s holding and uses the other to run his fingertips along Harry’s jaw. Harry can’t help but melt a little, feeling a happy warmth spread through his veins and skin. Louis’ hand is soft and gentle on his face and it burns Harry in all the right ways.

Louis pulls back and says, “Lay down, love.”

Harry obliges, sitting back and then lying back, head cushioned by the pillows and the soft yellow glow of the lamp next to their bed casting gray shadows on the wall. Louis leans over him, caging him in with his hands on either side of his head before he leans down and kisses Harry so thoroughly it makes his toes curl. Harry feels himself begin to grind up against Louis, hands sneaking around his waist to pull them flush together. Louis allows it only for a moment before he pulls back and begins to kiss down Harry’s face. He kisses his jaw and chin, down his neck and chest and belly. When he reaches Harry’s swim trunks, he pulls down the waistband just a bit to kiss along the hidden skin before he tugs them the rest of the way off and tosses them over the bed.

Harry watches Louis pull his own swim trunks off and grab the scarf, crumpling it a bit in his hand as he leans back over Harry and looks down at him.

“Are you sure?” he asks again.

Harry nods. “Yes, I’m positive.”

“I think… I think we should use colors, okay?” he replies. “If you don’t like something or aren’t sure or need a minute, tell me you’re yellow. If you want me to stop completely, tell me you’re red. And let me know if you’re green, too, okay? I want to know when you like something.”

“Alright,” Harry agrees. “I trust you,” he says again, not for himself but for Louis because he thinks Louis needs to hear it again.

“Good,” Louis says. “‘m gonna take care of you, Haz.”

Harry smiles up at him and touches the stubble on Louis’ jaw. “I know you will.”

“Are you ready?” Louis asks, waving the scarf over Harry’s face.

“Yup,” Harry replies, and leans up so his head is off the pillow.

It takes only seconds but feels like hours as Louis stretches the scarf between his hands again and carefully drapes it over Harry’s eyes. Things go dark instantly, not black but hazy and gray and fuzzy underneath the fabric. Louis ties the scarf off behind his head gently, the knot loose enough that Harry could tug it off easily or pull it free. When it’s secure, Harry lies back down. He feels exposed in the most exhilarating way. He can’t see how Louis’ looking at him, can only imagine it. He’s been in this position before, bare and under Louis and completely at his mercy, but he’s always been able to _see_ Louis before while it’s happening.

He focuses on his pounding heart, his blood rushing through his veins every which way but mostly straight to his cock. He can feel himself begin to get hard as Louis starts to rub a gentle hand along his thighs, along his pelvic bone and belly and back down again, neglecting to touch his cock. He feels Louis lean down again, hears the rustle of the covers, and then they’re kissing again, Louis’ hand still rubbing along his thighs venturing a bit closer every time.

Finally Louis grabs hold of him and begins to stroke. Harry gasps into Louis’ mouth and groans, turning his head into the pillow. “Yes,” he moans. “That’s perfect.”

“What do you want me to do?” Louis asks, beginning to nibble along Harry’s neck under his ear. “Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to fuck me,” Harry says instantly. Now that he’s in this position, it’s all he can think about - having Louis over him and in him, being covered by him completely. He wants to hear Louis’ moans and gasps and feel his hot breath, feel his lips.

“Okay love,” Louis replies easily, and keeps stroking him.

Harry feels it when he pulls away, the cold air settling over his skin where Louis was warming it. Louis’ hand is still sure and steady on his cock, his fingers spreading the wetness pooling at the head over the shaft. A moment later, the hand disappears and the _snick_ of the bottle of lube echoes loudly in the otherwise silent room.

“I’m gonna finger you now, Haz,” Louis says casually, as though Harry isn’t aching and blindfolded under him. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes, Louis,” Harry grits out, and he feels Louis chuckle against his neck where he begins to kiss him again.

Normally, he’d look down to see Louis’ hand between his legs. He can never get over the sight of Louis’ fingers disappearing into him, the sight combined with the feel of Louis inside him sometimes enough to make him come. But he can’t see it right now. He can only feel it when the first cool press of Louis’ finger brushes over his entrance. His breath hitches when Louis presses in slowly. He doesn’t give Harry much time to adjust to the stretch, just sinks in slowly until he’s all the way inside and running his finger along Harry’s walls.

“How does it feel?” Louis asks into his neck.

“Amazing,” Harry says, because it does. He can feel goosebumps beginning to pop up along his skin, feels the heavy weight of his cock resting on his belly and the drops of precome dripping onto his skin. He focuses on Louis’ teeth biting into his neck, then the soft slick of his tongue as he runs it over the abused skin. He feels himself start to grind back onto Louis’ finger.

“Gonna add another, okay?” Louis says.

“Please,” Harry says back. “C’mon.”

Louis obliges and quickly adds another finger. With the two, he begins to scissor his fingers and thrust in and out of Harry. The stretch burns a little, feels like it’s lighting Harry from the inside out. He blinks his eyes underneath the scarf but all he can see are shapes, grey and black shapes and the odd flash of white. When Louis brushes his prostate, he gasps out. He sees colors and light. He arches his back and fucks himself back down on Louis’ fingers.

“There,” he groans.

Louis doesn’t reply. He adjusts himself so he’s leaning back down over Harry and kisses him. He presses back into Harry until he reaches his prostate again, and then begins rubbing over it. Harry can’t kiss back, feels his mouth drop open on a loud groan that Louis swallows. He barely notices Louis pressing in a third finger until it, too, runs over his prostate and he cries out.

“Please, Louis,” Harry says. He reaches a hand out to still Louis’ fingers inside of him, keeping them pressed onto his prostate so he can grind down. “Fuck me.”

“Okay, one second, love.”

He gently retracts his fingers and Harry hisses as he pulls them out, feels cold air on his legs and balls and at his entrance. He hears Louis rip open a condom, the crackle of the wrapper and the shake of the lube bottle as Louis undoubtedly coats his cock with more of it.

He isn’t prepared for how _covered_ he feels when Louis pushes his legs apart a bit more and settles between them. Harry can barely feel his cock at his entrance, mostly feels Louis’ chest resting against his. He runs his hands down his back, feels the tense muscles and soft skin. He occasionally runs over sand, gritty grains scraping over Louis’ smooth skin.

“I’m ready,” Harry says. “Please, love.”

He feels his breath catch at the first press of Louis’ cock against him. He relaxes as Louis pushes in gently. He brings his legs up to wrap around his waist, feet pressing into his lower back and arse. Harry can’t even hear Louis breathing as he pushes in and bottoms out. Once he’s fully inside, he lets out a breath and leans down to kiss Harry.

They stay like that for a minute, Louis inside of him but not moving, just kissing and Harry running soothing hands down Louis’ back where he’s trembling.

“Are you okay, Lou?” Harry asks.

“Perfect,” Louis replies. “What about you? What’s your color?”

“Green,” Harry answers. He tightens his thighs around Louis. “You can move, baby.”

When Louis pulls back and thrusts back into him, Harry gasps. It feels...different, somehow. His eyes are closed but he knows he wouldn’t see anything even if he opened them. As Louis begins to thrust into him in a steady rhythm, Harry feels overwhelmed. His skin feels stretched too tight, and his cock is hard and aching on his belly where Louis is pressing it down with his own torso. He takes to running his fingernails down Louis’ back, loves the groan he hears Louis give out when he digs in a little too rough.

Louis leans his forehead down and presses it to Harry’s. His skin his sweaty. Harry feels little strands of Louis’ hair tickling along his own forehead. Harry’s neck is sweaty, too. His curls are matted underneath the pillow. When Louis changes the angle and hits Harry’s prostate, Harry cries out again.

“Color?” Louis checks in again.

“Green,” Harry gasps. “I’m green. Fuck, Louis, harder. Please.”

Louis obliges, picking up the pace so he’s relentless against Harry’s prostate.

“What does it feel like?” Louis asks. He kisses Harry’s cheek, licks up the sweat gathered on his cheekbone.

“I don’t…” Harry says on a breath. “It’s like… So much. In the best way.”

The blindfold prevents him from seeing Louis’ face at that moment, but he imagines it anyway: Louis’ cheeks beautifully pink from the exertion, drops of sweat at his hairline and along his upper lip. His eyes are dark blue and glazed over, his lips pink and swollen.

“You feel amazing, love,” Louis says. “So perfect around me.”

“You feel perfect in me,” Harry replies. He leans up and his lips land on Louis’ chin. He licks along his law, lapping up the sweat and tasting sun and sand and sunscreen. It’s bitter on his tongue and Harry can’t get enough of it. He feels Louis stretch his neck back so Harry can continue his assault down, landing on his Adam’s apple. Harry suddenly desperately wishes he could see it, the way the skin pulls taut as Louis exposes his neck for Harry to kiss and bite and lick however he pleases.

Louis’ thrusts turn more erratic, the bed creaking beneath them and the air hot and thick in spite of the air conditioning blowing across the room. Louis reaches beneath them and runs a finger along Harry’s cock before feeling the precome pooled on his belly.

“You’re so wet,” he says. “That’s so hot, Haz. You’re so hot.”

“Fuck,” Harry hisses when Louis runs his wet fingers back along his cock.

“I want you to come,” Louis whispers. “Tell me what you need.”

“Faster,” Harry pleads. “Fuck me faster.”

Louis forces Harry’s thighs apart wider and hitches his legs up higher so his knees are bent closer to his chest. He’s more open this way and Louis begins to thrust harder and faster into him. All of a sudden, it’s too much: their sweat mingling together between them making their chests slip and slide together, Harry’s cock leaking onto his belly and Louis’ cock driving into him so fast, too fast.

Louis nails his prostate one more time and Harry comes on a shout. He shoots onto his chest and gasps for air, clutching Louis’ shoulders and tucking his face into his neck as he shudders through his orgasm. Louis is still inside him, little, gentle thrusts working him through it until he’s done coming.

Harry doesn’t realize Louis has begun to tug at the scarf until it’s pulled from his face and cold air hits his closed eyes. He blinks them open blearily to see Louis staring down at him, eyes soft and fond in spite of the fact that he’s still hard inside of Harry.

“Color?” he asks one more time, brushing a sweaty curl back off Harry’s forehead.

“Green,” he says, because of course he’s green. He can’t imagine being anything _but_.

“Good,” Louis says softly. His fingertips trail over Harry’s heated face, cool on his red cheeks. “Was it okay?”

“It was wonderful,” Harry corrects.

Louis kisses him as he pulls out and discards the condom over the side of the bed. He hopes they don’t forget any of them when they check out, and some poor housekeeper doesn't find a rogue one in an odd place when she comes to turn the room over.

“I’m glad,” Louis replies finally. He runs his fingers over the skin that had been covered by the scarf. “Was it too much?”

“I would have told you,” Harry replies. “It felt perfect. It was… It was like when we fuck regularly, but more intense. Because I couldn’t see you. It felt even better, almost.”

Louis kisses him again, and it’s like he’s completely forgotten he’s still hard.

Harry hasn’t, though, and he reaches down to wrap his hand around Louis’ cock. Louis doesn’t even reply, just presses in closer and keeps Harry’s lips on his as Harry strokes up and down. He rubs over the head, presses down into the slit. He coats Louis’ cock with his own precome as he picks up the pace. When Louis comes, it’s not with a shout or a loud groan. He comes on a surprised gasp, like he wasn’t expecting to come so soon, and it’s into Harry’s mouth. He trembles through it, pressing up against Harry like he needs the closeness. Harry kisses him through the aftershocks, and even after Louis has come down completely.

The headscarf lays abandoned on the bed next to them as Harry turns over on his side and Louis crowds up against his back, wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist and spooning him.

They’ll clean up later, and turn off the light. For now, though, Harry just wants to lie here with his boy.

\----

Walking into Camp Nou is like nothing Louis has ever experienced before. It’s no Old Trafford, but one of the best teams in the world plays there. Messi literally plays there. Pique, Neymar, Iniesta. It’s held World Cup matches, Champions League finals, and European Cup matches. Hell, there’s even been an Olympic match there.

He’s unbelievably excited, probably as excited as the kid decked out in Messi gear dragging his entire family in.

Harry laughs and lets himself be dragged as well, Louis practically flouncing his way in.

“I can’t believe we’re here right now,” Louis squeals. “I can’t believe you got tickets for this tour.”

Harry plants a kiss on Louis’ cheek and squeezes his hand. “Anything to see that smile, love.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Let’s go, you curly-headed charmer.”

They start their tour.

\----

A short time later, Louis is staring up and around them, eyes wide and mesmerized and he has to remind himself to breathe.

“Oh my fucking God, I am standing on the pitch at Camp Nou,” Louis whispers. The sun is shining down and the pitch smells amazing and Louis can’t quite believe he’s here.

Harry takes out his phone and snaps a picture before Louis even realizes he’s done it.

“Hey!” Louis calls, swatting at the phone.

“You don’t want a picture of you crying on a professional pitch?” Harry teases.

“I’m not crying!” Louis wipes at his eyes, just in case. “It’s misty in here.”

“Yeah,” Harry drones on, looking at the clear blue sky, “super misty, babe.”

Louis will get him back for that later, but for now he just reaches over and squeezes Harry’s hand because the only thing better than the view around them is the sight of Harry smiling at him as they trail with the rest of the tour group around the pitch. When Louis smiles again it’s because Harry is squeezing back.

\----

They’re in the middle of dinner after Camp Nou, Niall and Liam munching happily as all of them stare out at the waterfront view of the restaurant they’re at, when Harry whispers in Louis’ ear.

Louis chokes.

“What did you just say?” he whispers back.

“I want you tie my wrists with the headscarf tonight,” Harry repeats.

Louis takes a drink of his water. “And you decided to tell me this now in front of our best mates?”

“Did you just admit we are your best mates? Is that what you two are whispering about over there?” Niall asks, mouth full.

“Of course you’re my best mates,” Louis waves a hand dismissively. “We were talking about your disgusting eating habits.”

Niall shrugs.

“So is that a yes?” Harry leans in close, lips practically wetting Louis’ ear. Louis is getting hard in a public place in front of his best mates and Harry looks absolutely shameless, smile wide.

  
“Yeah, babe. We’ll talk later.” Louis taps Harry’s leg once, changing the subject.

\----

Louis pins Harry up against the door as soon as they get into the room, licking into his mouth instantly.

“Can’t wait to tie those wrists up. Gonna do this so good for you, babe,” Louis breathes out.

Harry’s hips rut against him needily. “God, Lou.”

“You can touch now, love. I’ll give you the tie in little bit.”

Louis sinks to his knees in one fell swoop, pulling Harry’s pants down easily. Louis has Harry panting and breathless as he suckles on the tip of his cock.

Harry’s hands instantly go to Louis’ hair as if savoring the feeling. Louis takes him deeper, heart racing as Harry traces every inch of his face and neck, as Louis’ head bobs up and down.

Louis sucks harder, as Harry’s head bangs against the wall, thighs shaking.

His breaths are coming out in pants, and Louis knows he’s already close.

“You ready for me to tie your wrists up, love?”

Harry looks down at Louis, eyes blown out.

Louis swears he has never seen anyone so beautiful.

“Yeah,” he rasps.

Louis stands up, grabbing Harry’s face softly. “You’re sure about this? What’s your color?”

“Green, Louis,” Harry smiles sweetly, confidently, leaning in to kiss Louis. “What’s yours?”

Louis’ stomach flutters, unable to believe this boy is his. And real. “Very green,” he kisses him back. “Let’s take off your clothes.”

Louis guides Harry to the bed, taking off his jeans and pants easily, then unbuttoning his shirt slowly. He traces his hands all over his hot skin, admiring the muscles underneath his taut skin. The contrast of his dark tattoos on his milky skin.

He gets Harry naked before pushing him lightly onto his back, making him fall onto the bed.

“Get in a comfortable position, love,” Louis tells him, as he goes to get the headscarf and lube from where they were thrown the night before.

“Good job, babe,” he praises, as Harry preens.

Harry’s sprawled out, legs wide, cock unbelievably hard and chest completely flushed.

Louis has never seen a more perfect sight.

“Gonna tie them up now. Hands above your head,” Louis holds the headscarf in his hands, only shaking a little bit.

Harry seems to read his mind. His eyes become clear and determined. “You’re not going to hurt me, Lou. I won’t let you,” he reassures. “That’s the whole point of this, isn’t it?”

Louis takes Harry’s hands in his softly before squeezing them.

“I know,” Louis says. He can’t believe how full of admiration he is of this boy, who constantly takes the time to reassure him when he senses Louis’ brain starting to go into overdrive. “”m green, promise. Gonna take good care of you.”

He fumbles with the headscarf as he ties the soft material around Harry’s wrists, tying it securely, making sure he leaves room for his two fingers.

“That okay?” Louis locks eyes with Harry, who wiggles his wrists around experimentally.

“A little tight,” he tells him. “Maybe your fingers are too small,” he teases.

“Oi!” Louis swats at him, before loosening the scarf. “You’re sweaty and it’s hot as hell in this room, that’s probably why. I did my research,” he sticks his tongue out at Harry.

“Must have been on the same website then,” Harry winks. “That’s why I said it, want to make sure we leave some room.” Harry wriggles his wrists around again, unable to get them out, but still loose enough that the material isn’t going to cut off his circulation.

“Perfect, Lou,” Harry tells him, eyes glassy. Louis breathes out a sigh of relief.

Harry’s cock is still as hard as it was before, and it twitches as Louis moves off the bed.

Louis makes a move to take off his shirt, but hesitates. He knows Harry loves to take off his clothes.

“Louis,” Harry whines.

Louis watches his wrists like a hawk.

He pulls off his shirt slowly, watching as Harry’s wrists twitch and his breath hitches. Harry’s eyes trail over him hungrily, eyes a very dark green. He throws his shirt to the floor, but Harry’s eyes don’t leave his.

He then goes to his waistband, thumbing at the material, before pulling down his jeans completely, taking his pants with them.

Harry gasps, throwing his head back, before savoring the sight of Louis’ eyes focused on him.

“Louis, please,” Harry pants. His cock blurts precome as Louis crawls onto the bed, lube in hand.

Louis doesn’t give any warning as he takes Harry back into his mouth entirely.

Harry writhes and cries out, hips bucking up and wrists bouncing as he throws his head back again in pleasure.

Louis kisses his way up Harry’s chest, thumbing at the scarf to make sure it’s still not too tight, and checking Harry’s circulation.

“Green, green, so fucking green, please Louis,” Harry babbles.

“Okay, love,” Louis soothes him. He licks a stripe back down his chest, taking Harry’s cock in his mouth again.

He sucks relentlessly, Harry panting and squirming, moaning loudly.

Louis gets one finger wet with lube, before pressing his finger in. Harry’s cock hits the back of Louis’ throat in surprise.

Harry’s whole body tenses and seizes as he spills into Louis’ mouth without warning.

Louis lifts his head and stares at Harry, eyes wide in disbelief. Harry stares right back, before a small incredulous noise escapes his lips.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen so quickly,” Harry giggles. “I couldn’t help myself, my wrist got caught when you put your finger in and I just...came.”

Louis laughs, kissing Harry’s thigh. “Well, I’m glad I make you so uncontrollable.”

“Come up here,” Harry nods at him. “Let me suck you.”  


Louis gets up, and situates himself on Harry’s chest. “Like this?” he fingers at Harry’s wrists, checking his circulation again. “Green?” he asks.

“Green,” Harry confirms, before licking one broad strip up Louis’ cock and then diving right in.

Louis leans forward, grasping the headboard so hard his knuckles are white, as Harry slurps wetly on his cock.

He takes one look at the determination in Harry’s eyebrows, and the long line of his arms, his wrists bound, as he squirms in them, clearly wanting to reach out and touch, and finds himself spilling over the edge just as quickly as Harry had.

He struggles to catch his breath before removing the headscarf and settling himself next to Harry, letting him stretch out his arms.

“That was amazing,” Louis breathes out.

“It was,” Harry replies, kissing him sweetly. “Can’t wait to try even more with you.”  


“Need your headboard at home, if we want to get creative.” Louis tries to get his heartbeat to settle.

“You want to tie my wrists to the headboard?” Harry asks, eyes hopeful.

“Yeah, of course. As long as you want to,” Louis kisses his chest, snuggling into it, despite the sweat cooling over their skin.

“There are an endless amount of things that I want to do with you, Louis. And they’re not all sexual,” Harry murmurs sleepily.

Louis’ heart feels full. “Feeling is mutual, Harry,” Louis says, as sleep starts to overtake him.

\----

On their last night in Barcelona, Harry and Louis break from Niall and Liam one more time to have dinner alone. Louis made reservations at a place called 9 Nine that got good reviews on Trip Advisor and in spite of it looking like it could be really expensive, Louis said they can treat themselves just a _bit_ before they leave.

Niall and Liam pop by their room before they head off to their own evening activities (Harry is pretty sure they're going salsa dancing). Niall has on his “sexy” shirt, a black polo with the buttons undone to show off his chest hair, which Liam keeps giving him shit about. Harry tells them to be safe and Louis yells bye from the bathroom.

A few minutes later, Harry nearly drops dead when Louis emerges from the bathroom looking like he just walked a runway. He has on tight black jeans and shiny black shoes with a dark brown sole. A tight dark blue Oxford shirt is stretched over his chest and cuffed at his elbows. A black jacket is swung over his arm. Most alarmingly, his hair is swept up off his forehead and twisted into a swirl, a pretty curlicue of blonde and brown hair sticking straight up and hair sprayed within an inch of its life.

Harry’s mouth drops open and Louis just smirks. “Y’alright there, Curly?”

“Jesus,” is all Harry manages to get out.

Louis gives a little spin right there on the spot. “You think?”

Seeing Louis turn, his bum accentuated by the dark fabric as he moves, just makes Harry’s jaw drop open even more.

Louis laughs and walks over to Harry, wrapping a finger around his hair and tugging on a bouncy curl. “You look lovely.”

Harry glances down at his own ensemble. He’d gone bold for this occasion - a black short-sleeved button-down shirt with pink flamingos on it and his own pair of skintight black jeans, and his favorite pair of black boots. His hair will probably end up thrown into a ponytail halfway through the night anyway, so he’d left it down to air dry, which made his curls especially curly.

“Thank you,” he answers, loving the gentle pressure on his scalp where Louis is pulling on his hair.

“Are you ready?” Louis asks, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I feel like this is the type of place where if you’re not on time for your reservation they won’t let you in.” He chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah.” Harry grabs his own jacket and room key from the bed and follows Louis out the door and into the air-conditioned hallway.

9 Nine is incredibly swanky. Louis insists they get the set menu, even though it’s €29 a person, because he insists on fine dining this evening. The ambience is nice, relaxed and modern, and the food is even better. They share champagne and tapas and bread, and then choose the steak and pork from the main course options. Harry giggles when the champagne bubbles over the side of Louis’ flute and dribbles down his cheeks onto his jeans. They’re sated by the time dessert rolls around, but they still share a lemon sorbet and an apple strudel-type dessert with a name Harry can’t pronounce.

It’s over dessert and more champagne, when Louis is drawing on the plate with his fork and leftover caramel sauce, that Harry feels an especially tight sensation grip his heart. Just a second ago, Louis had been yammering on about one of his courses where he had to plan a science experiment and he’s laughing about when he almost broke a microscope in the lab back at Leeds and it just...it hits Harry.

This, him and Louis, is forever. At least for Harry.

Louis doesn’t notice the shift in Harry’s mood, how he’s biting his lower lip because he wants to tell Louis all the things running through his head but he doesn’t think now is the right moment, doesn’t even know for sure that that’s something Louis _wants_. He’s got an inkling, especially when Louis reaches out and begins to stroke the back of Harry’s hand without a second thought, wiggling his fingers underneath Harry’s rings and tickling the skin. They always are on the same page somehow, but Harry just… He wants to be sure.

“Lou?” Harry begins slowly, turning his hand over so Louis is stroking his palm instead.

“Yeah?” Louis asks, blinking at him with his too-blue eyes made even bluer by the color of his shirt. He’s smiling, relaxed and happy and altogether entirely too pleased at himself for selecting this restaurant.

“When I graduate,” he breaches the subject tentatively, swallowing down his nerves. He has to be able to look Louis in the eye for this. “When _we_ graduate, what… What’s going to happen for us?”

“Us?” Louis asks, eyes scrunching up. “What do you mean?”

“Us as a unit,” Harry says. He deliberately avoids using the word _couple_ because that sounds so cliche, and saying they’re just a couple diminishes what Harry knows this is. They’re not just a couple. They’re partners.

Louis pauses his strokes for just a second, long enough for Harry to feel a pinprick of anxiety seep into his chest, but then Louis is back to doing it like nothing ever happened. “Well, Curly,” he says, “I think I’d quite like it if you and I got a place of our own.”

Harry’s eyes shoot open. “What?”

“I love Niall and Liam,” Louis goes on, “but they’ve got their own things to do, too.”

“You want…” Harry starts, then stops. He starts to feel a smile creep over his face. “You want to live with me?”

“Of course,” Louis says casually, but the way his own lips are turned up in a grin makes it clear he’s just as affected. “Do you not want that?” he asks like already knows the answer.

“No no no!” Harry corrects. “I absolutely do. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page, you know? It’s a big deal.”

Louis nods seriously. “It is. But it’s also an easy decision for me. We’re both moving on from school. We’re both going to be working and we’re going to have our own lives. But I want to be with you, however we make it happen.”

“We’d need to talk about where. Budgets. Neither of us has a full-time job for after we graduate yet,” Harry adds.

“You’re right,” Louis agrees. “We’ve got to figure all that stuff out. And it might take some time. You know, we might have to stay in Leeds for a while, or even…move back home for a bit. But we’ll make it happen, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry says. That tight sensation in his heart grips him tighter, warms him from the inside out when Louis smiles his crinkly-eyed smile and squeezes Harry’s hand.

“I’ve been browsing online for jobs in London,” Louis says, “teaching jobs. Like, in and around London.”

“I want to work in music publishing,” Harry says, even though he knows that Louis pretty much knows this already, “and London is ground zero.”

Louis nods along. “You’re right.”

“It’s expensive as fuck,” Harry tacks on for good measure.

“It’s really fucking expensive.”

“But if we play our cards right, we could make it work,” Harry finishes, smiling before he’s even done talking because he sees the excitement in Louis’ eyes the more Harry talks.

“It might be the shittiest flat on the planet,” Louis tells him.

“Rats. Stains on the carpet. Might have had a murder happen there.”

“Noisy neighbors, just terrible. People having sex at all hours…”

“People other than us?” Harry grins.

Louis’ lips quirk up but he nods solemnly. “Straight people,” he says.

Harry fakes a shudder and squeezes Louis’ hand. “We might be living off of spinach and Ramen noodles.”

Louis cackles a laugh. “Of all the things why would it be _spinach_ and Ramen noodles?”

“I’m determined to make sure you eat your greens, Tomlinson, no matter how broke we are.” Louis squeezes his hand just a bit harder.

“Well it’s settled, then,” Louis says. “We’re going to make it work.”

“Yes,” Harry says. Then, because he feels like he needs to say it, “But, just so we’re clear… I’ll be happy even if it’s not in London. If it’s in Leeds or Plymouth or we move back to Doncaster or Holmes Chapel, I’m still going to be happy as long as I’m with you.”

The fond look Louis sends his way is almost too much. It’s too affectionate, too soft, and Harry feels all at once everything he feels about Louis echoed back at him. He feels happy and safe and excited. Excited about them and their future and the fact that they’re going to take it all on together, as a unit.

“We need to do something,” Louis says suddenly. “I want… I want to go on an adventure.”

The excitement that was just swimming in Louis’ eyes doubles and he’s practically bouncing out of his seat. Harry’s own anticipation and excitement begins to fizzle along his skin from where they’re touching until it simmers through his whole body and he feels faint with it.

“What did you have in mind?”

Louis reaches into his wallet to pull out his card to pay for their meals, and holds up a hand when Harry tries to get his own money out. “Do you trust me?”

The obvious answer is _yes_ , so Harry just shoves his wallet back into his jeans and says, “Where are we going?”

\----

“Louis Tomlinson,” Harry gapes at the building in front of them, excitement buzzing beneath his skin. “Are you serious right now?”

Louis grins back, a lightening glint in his eyes.

“If it looks shifty, we’ll leave, but, it’s rated well,” Louis shows him the Google search. “What do you say Harold? Want to get a tattoo?”

Harry laughs, clear as the night sky, and nods. “Let’s do this.”

\----

Maybe it was the Barcelona air, or the fact that he had been practically living with Harry for a week on this vacation but Louis’ skin is on fire with wanting to mark this trip, mark this night, this feeling with something permanent.

He couldn’t quite believe he was so lucky, that Harry felt everything he did, that he wanted to make this work just as he did after graduation, and for the rest of their lives.

Well, that part he might wait to bring up, but with him blurting out his desire to live together, just based on Harry’s sparkle in his eye and soft skin underneath his fingers, he’s not sure how he’ll manage.

He just can’t help himself.

Which is exactly how they ended up in tattoo parlor after their dinner.

“I’m thinking we go with a theme,” Louis announces, flipping through the parlor’s artists’ photobooks as they wait for an artist to be available.

The whirring of the tattoo guns is making him twinge with excitement. He can’t wait, can’t wait to have something on his skin to remind him of this whole experience. The first of many that can remind him of this beautiful boy next to him, staring at him with pink cheeks and green, green eyes.

He can’t believe he’s this gone for the same boy who accused him of being a drug dealer and practically kicked him out of his home.

“I agree,” Harry tells him seriously. “I’m thinking nautical. Just feels right.”

Louis thinks of their day out on the sailboat, and their days at the beach. The sand between his toes and floating with Harry out in the sea.

He nods. “Always on the same page, aren’t we, babe?”

Harry grins.

“Are you guys ready?” Leon, a thin guy covered in Sailor Jerry themed tattoos comes back out, with a smile on his face.

“Yeah. But like, it’s sort of a surprise? So is it alright if we go one at a time?”

Leon nods understandingly. “Of course. So who’s first?”

“You go,” Harry insists, rather quickly.

“You sure?” Louis looks at him in concern.

“Yeah,” Harry whispers. “I just,” he glances down quickly, so fast Louis barely even notices, “I would just prefer to go last.”

Louis stares at him, as Harry just pointedly stares back, waiting for the cogs in Louis’ brain to turn.

It clicks, and oh.

_Oh._

Harry’s probably already halfway to hard, and getting tattooed will get him all the way there.

Louis swallows.

He starts sweating. “Yeah. I’ll go first.”

He gives Harry a kiss, and then he’s off, towards the back room.

  
“So what are you thinking?” Leon asks as Louis sits in a chair in front of a table covered in sketches and papers and laminated designs. Louis notices the piercing in his eyebrow.

“North Star,” Louis blurts out, before he has time to really think about it.

Leon smiles knowingly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis smiles back. “Inside of my wrist, not too big. Maybe like,” He holds out his fingers, a few centimeters wide, “this big? And more like the North Star on the compass, traditional.”

Leon sketches something quickly. “Like this?”

Louis breath catches when Leon hands over the paper. It’s simple, traditional, and perfect. “Yeah. Can you just, make sure it’s like sort of in the same style as his?” Louis asks tentatively.

  
Leon laughs. “I have a feeling he’s going to say the same thing, but I’ll try. I’ll have you fill out paperwork, while I consult with him alright? Send him back, then you’ll be up.”

Louis’ stomach flutters with butterflies. “Okay.”

Harry looks surprised when Louis comes back out so quickly.

“He wants to sketch yours first too, while I fill out paperwork. Then he’ll tattoo me, then you.”

Harry breathes out a sigh of relief. “I guess I’ll go tell him about my giant octopus I’m getting on my ass.”

Louis laughs loud and brash, tapping Harry on the bum. “Won’t deter me at all, love,” he says. “Go on then.”

Louis watches Harry’s retreating back and the weight of the situation grips him in a flash.

Fuck.

The North Star. The North Star that guided sailors home. The North Star that marked new beginnings and adventure, that marked creating a pathway for yourself.

And he was going to make that path with Harry by his side.

Louis’ heart hammers as he waits for Harry to return, hearing him laugh from the back room. It makes Louis’ heart ache, in the best way.

Harry comes back, face tinged pink, and a certain giddiness in his step.

“He’s ready for you, Lou,” Harry kisses him, full on the mouth, before sending him on his way.

“Wish me luck,” Louis kisses Harry one last time on the cheek before walking towards the back.

He’s so excited he can’t breathe.

Leon’s waiting with the sketch, still just as breathtaking as before.

“Ready man?” he asks.

Louis sits down in the chair, watching in interest as Leon sets up the tattoo gun and black ink.

He puts the stencil on Louis, letting him check out the spot to make sure he’s okay with the position.

It sits on his forearm perfectly, a little higher than he first intended but it’s perfect. It’s amazing.

“We’re good to go, mate, I love it,” Louis tells him earnestly.

Leon picks up the tattoo gun and laughs. “You’re not a thrasher, are you?”

“I think I’ll manage,” Louis laughs.

The machine starts up, a whirring that’s louder than he remembers, and then the first press of the needle presses his arm.

It’s thrilling, the press of the needle, the numbing pain of getting a tattoo. It’s been awhile since his last one, but the scrape against his skin is invigorating.

Louis loves it.

It’s over before he knows it, a simple tattoo with not too much detail, plus Leon idly chatting about his wife and daughter has Louis distracted. Then, suddenly Louis is admiring the North Star inked on his arm permanently.

  
Christ, it’s gorgeous.

“I love it,” Louis tells him, letting him snap a picture for his portfolio.

  
Leon covers it up. “You guys can do the reveal in a couple hours. Alright?”

“I’m sure we could wait that long,” Louis winks.

Leon rolls his eyes. “Send your boy back.”

Louis comes out with his jacket on, and Harry searches for any inked skin. “Where is it?” he demands, reaching out to touch Louis everywhere, but thinking better of it.

“You’ll find out soon enough, love. Go ahead,” Louis kisses Harry again, unable to contain himself when he’s high on the feeling of this, of having Harry and having him for, well, forever. As long as the North Star is bright.

He’s a fucking sap, is what he is.

Harry savors the kiss for a second or two longer than he should, and then he’s off walking towards the back, and Louis is anxiously wondering what Harry’s getting inked.

And where.

It’s about ten minutes of tortured waiting and the low sound of whirring and Harry’s laugh that has Louis itching in his seat because he just wants to _know_ before Harry emerges, sleeves down to his wrists.

It’s got to be on his arm.

Harry’s face is flushed, and his smile is bright, hair disheveled probably from running his hands through it so much.

Louis glances down and can see the line of Harry’s cock through his jeans.

Louis instantly feels like he needs to be doused in cold water.

He kisses Louis instantly, before Leon comes out and they pay, completely giddy and high off each other, bumping and nudging into each other the whole time.

“Thank you guys a lot. I love doing couple tattoos.” Leon grins at them fondly, amused by how they keep smiling at each other. Louis isn’t embarrassed. They’re fucking adorable. “You guys really complement each other, without even realizing how much, I think,” Leon tells them, shaking their hands.

A warmth spreads throughout Louis’ body.

“We know,” Louis smiles brightly at Harry, who’s sporting the same wild grin. “We’re pretty lucky, I’d say.”

“Thank you again,” Harry tells him, and then they’re off.

\----

“It’s time!” Harry all but squeals as soon as the third episode of some Spanish telenovela that they can’t stop watching as they leisurely pack comes on. They had killed time walking around shops after their tattoos, too giddy to go back to the hotel, but now they had waited long enough and their bandages were coming off.

Louis stomach fills with butterflies as he thinks of what Harry could possibly have tattooed.

“You ready?” Harry asks, as he sits on the bed. Louis climbs in after him.

“Ready, love. On the count of three.”

“One, two,” they count together, “three.”

Louis takes off his shirt as Harry does the same.

Louis’ breath catches as he spots the little bandage on the inside of Harry’s wrist, in almost the exact spot Louis has his.

Louis holds out his arm in amazement, watching the emotions pass on Harry’s face.

“They’re practically in the same spot,” he whispers in astonishment.

Louis feels oddly choked up. “Come on, I want to see it. Count to three again?”

“One,” Harry starts off and Louis joins in, “two, three.” They each unwrap their skin and expose their forearms, holding them out for the other to see.

Louis chokes on a laugh, eyes filling with tears automatically.

Harry’s got a simple little sailboat in the middle of the inside of his wrist, that matches his North Star almost perfectly.

He stares at it in awe, grabbing Harry’s wrist to inspect it closer. Harry lets him and says softly, “I just, being on a boat makes me feel free, you know? And with you, I feel free.”

Louis looks up at Harry, tears definitely threatening to spill over as he matches the beautiful smile on Harry’s face. His face is so open so honest, and even his eyes are glassy.

“And I got a North Star,” Louis says quietly as Harry brushes the inside of his wrist delicately, “because the North Star creates a path for ships to come home. And that path is with you.”

 _Home is with you_ , is what Louis wants to say, but he thinks he might wait for that one.

Harry makes a strangled noise. “You’re guiding my boat.”

Louis laughs thickly. “I’m guiding your boat,” he confirms.

“And we didn’t even know,” Harry laughs in awe.

“Nope, not a clue,” Louis shakes his head in disbelief.

Harry stares at him, something wild underneath all the adoration. “Kiss me please.”

Harry doesn’t even need to ask, as Louis is already leaning in and crushing their lips together. Everything he feels in that moment is magnified, the way Harry’s fingers tremble as he runs them along Louis’ jaw and cups the side of his face, every nerve ending on Louis’ skin firing off as he presses their lips together harder. It’s the most connected he’s ever felt to another person, more intimate than the first time he and Harry had sex, more passionate than the first time they kissed.

Louis slowly pushes Harry back on the bed. Harry’s arms automatically wrap around Louis and tug him in closer so he’s on top, caging Harry in. Harry’s head is cushioned by their pillows, hair spilling out over them like a halo. Louis presses him in harder and caresses Harry’s chest, any skin he can get at through the unbuttoned material, desperate to touch and feel Harry solid and warm and undeniably _his_.

Harry bends his legs to keep Louis between him, their groins sliding together through the thick, rough fabric of their jeans. He tightens his grip around Louis and white hot heat flares through Louis’ abdomen making him press closer as he gets at Harry’s mouth, slipping his tongue in and licking at any part he can.

He suddenly needs Harry naked, needs to see him bare under him, wants to see his skin clearly and the beautiful new ink.

“Haz,” he grits out, “clothes. Off.”

Harry nods and pulls back so Louis can begin to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way down. He slips it off Harry’s shoulders, careful to avoid his fresh tattoo for the moment, and then makes quick work of getting off his jeans and boxer briefs. When he’s fully naked, Louis’ breath catches at what he sees: Harry’s beautiful milky skin on display just for him, his nipples puffy and hard, his heaving chest and green eyes blown black, and the skin around his tattoo the slightest bit red and angry.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, “you’re so beautiful, baby.”

Harry flushes under the attention and makes grabby hands to pull Louis back down. “Louis, I need to see you.”

Louis unbuttons the first few of his shirt and tugs it the rest of the way off, then he kicks off his jeans and underwear so he’s also naked. Just as quickly, he’s leaning back down and kissing Harry again. Their cocks slide together as he positions himself back over Harry and Harry immediately arches up to grind them together, wrapping his arms around Louis’ back to keep him in place.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is their hot breaths mingling together as they kiss, the slick movement of their bodies as they grind together. When Louis pulls back on a breath, he looks down and can’t take his eyes off the new tattoo on Harry’s arm. He reaches down and rubs just around the edge of where the skin is pink. When he does, Harry arches up again and grabs hold of Louis’ arse to keep him in place.

“Fuck,” he moans, “Louis.”

“You like that, babe?” Louis asks, voice deep and gritty even to his own ears. He runs a finger along the skin again and again as he feels Harry’s cock thicken underneath him and pretty moans echo in his ear.

“Shit,” Harry groans, “that’s… That’s so much.”

“Is it a good so much?” Louis questions.

“Yeah,” Harry huffs. “Like it hurts but in a good way.”

In response, Louis leans down and kisses him again. He keeps his touch light as he traces the skin surrounding the tattoo, careful not to rub the ink or the skin that’s particularly red. Harry keeps his grip on Louis’ arse and digs his fingers into the flesh, nails leaving little half moon marks into his skin.

Louis’ mind races as he grinds down onto Harry. Their skin is wet with sweat and precome, and he’s so hard his brain goes fuzzy. Just as soon as he thinks it, he feels Harry drag one hand down from his arse and past his waist. Harry reaches between them and grabs hold of Louis’ cock. He gasps, presses his forehead to Harry’s and screws his eyes shut.

“Together,” he says. “Want it together.”

Harry just _gets_ it. He always does. The next second, he feels Harry’s cock slide up next to his own and Harry’s hand begins to stroke both of them together. It’s so unbelievably hot, Harry’s hand reaching around the girth of both of them and sliding up and down them both.

“So good,” he groans and presses down on Harry’s skin just a bit harder.

His reward is Harry sliding his other hand to the back of his neck and crushing their lips together in a hot, open-mouthed kiss that’s mostly gasps and moans into each other’s mouths as Harry strokes them. He runs his hand up to the tip and glides back down easily. They’re both so wet and hard and Louis feels like any second he could come. By the moans Harry’s making he thinks he’s close too.

“So perfect,” Louis praises when he manages a second to catch his breath, “never been like this with anyone else.”

“Me neither,” Harry replies, “always so good with you.”

Louis presses closer to Harry’s tattoo, on a part of the skin he can feel is extra rough and warm from the needle, and Harry cries out.

“I’m close,” he says quietly, barely audible over the sound of their moving bodies still grinding together and the wet slick of his hand.

“C’mon,” Louis coaxes, “want to see you come, babe. Want to feel it.”

It only takes one more press of Louis’ fingers around the tattoo and Harry is coming hotly between them. When Louis feels the warmth run over his own cock and shoot between their bellies, he feels the tension in his belly snap and he comes too. Harry strokes them through it, keeps his fingers in Louis’ hair so he can kiss him as they come down.

When they’re both done, Louis gives Harry a soft kiss and rolls off the bed. He grabs a few tissues from the box on the nightstand and cleans them off. He immediately checks Harry’s arm to make sure it’s still okay, and he can’t help the way his fingers still trace the skin, completely mesmerized by the black ink that’s still there, still completely real.

All the emotions of the night come swimming back into Louis, and he knows his eyes must be wet when he feels Harry trace a finger underneath them gently.

“What’s on your mind, babe?” he asks quietly.

When Louis looks at him, his eyes are soft and fond and he’s got an easy smile on his face, eyes beautifully bright green and hair a sweaty, curly mess all over the pillow.

“Just thinking,” he replies slowly, “how lucky I am.”

Harry beams back at him and runs his fingertips along the crinkles of Louis’ eyes. “How lucky _we_ are,” he corrects.

“We,” Louis confirms. “I didn’t… When you asked me tonight what would happen between us, I couldn’t even fathom there not _being_ an us,” he admits.

“Me neither,” Harry replies. “It’s like, when I’m with you, everything feels better.” A thoughtful look passes over his face as he looks up at Louis. “I told you, Lou. You make me feel free. Not that I felt trapped before or anything, but you… I feel like the world has opened up for me, somehow.”

“Me too,” Louis replies. “I know I said I wanted to go on an adventure earlier, but honestly… _Every day_ is an adventure when I’m with you.”

“I know,” Harry says. “And I’ve got to be honest, graduating scares the shit out of me. But I’m not as scared when I think about having you with me, you know?”

Louis averts his eyes and smiles, eyes catching on the tattoo once again. “You make me strong,” Louis says, then pauses. “You make me _stronger_.”

It’s the closest thing Louis can think of to convey how he feels in that moment, because being with Harry is unlike anything he’s ever felt before. By the blinding smile he received in return, he thinks Harry feels the same.

“Living with you is going to be our next big adventure,” Harry says, “no matter where we are or what we’re doing.”

“Even with the rats?”

“Even with the rats.”

“We should talk to Niall and Liam when we get back,” Louis says slowly. “Start, like, planning and stuff.”

“We will,” Harry says. “But, tonight… Tonight let’s just cuddle, yeah? Think about the difficult stuff later.”

That, Louis can fully get behind. He lays down so his front is pressed to Harry’s side and raises their arms up so their tattoos line up. Together, they look perfect. Like they were meant for each other.

He can’t help thinking that the same applies for him and Harry, too.

\----

With spring break coming to a close, and the back half of the semester looming before him, Niall is so ready to wind down. Even if he did just come back from Spain. Who’s to judge him, though?

“Who wants a blunt?” he calls as he emerges from his room after an attempt to get a headstart on one of his projects due the first day back in classes. It had failed miserably. Whatever. He had time.

“Hmm?” Louis asks from the couch where he and Harry are watching re-runs of Kitchen Nightmares.

“Oh perfect, Gordon Ramsay while high is a terrifying dream. Where’s Leemo? Are we all in?” Niall asks, as Harry lazily looks up at him, finally.

God, what is with these people and waiting to respond to him?

“Liam’s in his room, I think. Liam!” Harry calls.

Liam emerges in only his sweats and an expectant look. “What are you guys yelling about?”

“Weed. Me trying to smoke it. Are you in?” Niall asks, bored of this repetitive conversation already.

Liam shrugs, looking back and forth between the Louis and Harry blob on the couch and Niall.

Niall taps his foot.

“Yeah, we’re in,” Liam smiles.

Niall grins.

\----

There’s a slight breeze from the windows being open and the air is heavy.

Niall can’t think of a single care in the world right now except for Gordon Ramsay and the obnoxious sucking sound coming from the couch. They’ve been smoking, laughing, and talking shit for the last 3 hours, and finally they’re watching Kitchen Nightmares again.

“Fucking hell,” Niall mutters. “Stop making out while the king is on TV.”

Liam laughs slow and syrupy. “Did you just call Gordon Ramsay a king? He looks like he could be your twin if you had a twin that was 20 years older.”

Niall lets that thought rack his brain for a moment.

“Fuck off,” Niall laughs, pushing Liam. Liam flails for a minute, before falling over and laying down, eyes lidded.

Niall stares aimlessly at the screen, watching Gordon Ramsay yell at people for their horrid restaurants, when he catches repeated movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Oi!” Niall yells. “Get a room!”

He throws a pillow at Harry and Louis, where Harry is rocking his hips toward Louis.

God, Niall can’t even watch Kitchen Nightmares in peace.

Louis and Harry laugh and tumble off the couch. They scurry off to one of their rooms. Within minutes, the room is quiet save the voices on the TV and Niall’s out like a light, along with Liam.

\----

“Come on, Lou,” Harry murmurs into Louis’ neck lazily.

“What do you want, Curly? Want me to suck you off?” Louis asks, sitting up leaning back on Harry’s hips from where he’s straddling him.

It’s so reminiscent of months before.

“No,” Harry looks up at him. “Want you.”

Louis grinds against him, as he leans down, sucking on Harry’s neck again. “Want me to fuck you?”

“Yeah,” Harry answers breathlessly.

Harry bucks up his hips as they grind against each other, hips moving in slow circles. There’s no rush, just the press of their lips, hot and slow, tongues savoring every inch of each other’s mouths.

It’s lazy, and mind-meltingly hot. Everything feels heightened, but their movements are syrupy slow. Louis takes off Harry’s shirt easily, before taking off his own. He moves towards their pants quickly, getting them naked before he’s back on top of Harry, hot skin against hot skin.

They kiss languidly for a while before throbbing of Louis’ cock is too much to bare. He shimmies down Harry’s long torso, settling himself between Harry’s legs, grabbing the lube off the side table.

Louis bites and licks at Harry’s thighs while he presses his first finger in. Harry lets him easily, thighs dropped open wide and muscles relaxed.

There’s sweat forming at his forehead, and Harry’s skin is hot and the room feels like it’s sweltering.

Harry moans, long and high, unabashedly loud.

Louis bites at his skin, uncoordinated as he adds a second finger. “Love it when you’re all relaxed like this.” He kisses Harry’s hip.

“Feels like you’re all over,” Harry mumbles.

Louis licks a stripe up his cock just to tease him.

“Lou,” Harry attempts to giggle, but it comes out as more of a breathless groan.

He adds a third finger as a bead of precome spurts out of Harry’s cock, and he hits his prostate dead on.

“Oh,” Harry moans. “Come on, Lou. Need you now.”

“Gonna give you what you need, love,” Louis leans up and kisses Harry, wet and hard, before rolling on a condom and lining himself up.

Harry wraps his legs around Louis’ torso as he presses in, the angle already deep and so very warm.

They kiss lazily, leisurely as they move slowly, rocking at the same pace. Louis keeps his thrusts slow as Harry scratches at his back, blunt nails tracing over every inch of his shoulders. He keeps them steady as Harry wraps his legs a little tighter, heels digging in Louis’ back. Everything is so unhurried. Louis keeps his thrusts even and slow as he fucks deep into Harry, jolting him up the bed.

Louis shifts up a little higher, making the angle that much deeper, and then Harry is coming in between them, clenching around Louis’ cock.

Louis’ orgasm surprises him, and suddenly he’s shuddering, spilling into the condom.

He pulls out slowly, tossing the condom before wiping Harry down with a t-shirt he previously threw.

“That’s gross, Lou,” Harry giggles sleepily, eyes already drooping.

“We’ll handle it tomorrow,” Louis mumbles into Harry’s neck, cuddling into his chest. “Sleep.”

They’re both out in an instant.

\----

Harry isn’t _nervous_ , per se. What he lacks in skill he makes up for in enthusiasm, but it’s definitely a bit daunting to walk out onto the pitch with Louis and see a gaggle of guys kicking a ball back and forth with each other.

Somehow, and Harry can only blame his sex-addled brain after Louis sucked him off the other night, Louis got Harry to agree to play a game of four-a-side.

“I did yoga with you, though, remember?” Louis had whined as he kissed over Harry’s hot, bare skin. He played dirty, is what he did.

So now Harry is being introduced to the group. Louis played rec with all of them, and a few were even on the uni team with him. He recognizes Tom immediately, and sees Joe come up behind them. They’re both giving Harry a shit-eating grin.

“So it’s official, then?” Tom asks, teeth on display as he smirks back and forth between Louis and Harry. “I take it body shots were a success.”

Louis glares as Tom. “One of these days, and you won’t know _which_ day, I’m going to get back at you for that.”

Tom only giggles further as Joe nudges him in the arm, hard. “I’m glad to see everything worked out,” Joe says genuinely.

A few of the other guys hovering on the edge of the circle come closer and inspect Harry. “So you’re the boyfriend, eh?” one of them asks. “Tommo doesn’t shut up about you.”

Harry preens under the attention and elbows Louis. “Really?”

“Okay!” Louis says loudly. “Everyone, this is my boyfriend Harry, who _I’ve mentioned a few times_.” The guys snicker. Well, everyone except Tom; Tom just full-on laughs. “Harry, you know Tom and Joe. These other wankers are John, Danny, Matthew, and Mike.”

Harry makes note of all their names as Louis recites them. He hopes he remembers who is who, but he guesses it doesn’t matter. They divvy themselves up, four to a side: Louis, Harry, Joe, and Mike on one team and Tom, Danny, John, and Matthew on the other.

Initially Louis has Harry playing defense, but Harry can admit it… He’s terrible. After the fourth time of letting the other side steal the ball, and Harry tripping over his own two feet, Louis almost collapses onto the ground in laughter and shakes his head.

“Wow, Haz,” he says when Harry wanders over. “Just… Wow.”

Harry laughs too and wipes at his forehead. “I told you.”

“You did,” Louis nods. When he stands, he calls for a huddle. “Alright, change of plans,” he says to their little group. “Harry is off defense and is with me on offense. Joe, you switch with Mike in the goal and Mike you take Harry’s place.”

When they break, and they start again, things go much better. Louis is quick and light on his feet. He easily steals the ball from the other side and scores twice before Harry gets a chance himself. It’s a lucky shot, but he manages to swipe the ball out from under Matthew’s feet and kicks the ball hard into the corner of the net.

Louis cheers from across the pitch and runs across the grass to him, lifting him up by the waist and twirling him around.

“Babe!” he praises. “You did it!”

Harry accepts the kiss Louis gives him, and ignores the well-timed chorus of moans from the other guys, but it’s worth it. Especially since it’s the only goal he scores the whole game. It doesn’t matter. They still win.

When it’s over, the eight of them sprawl out under a tree and pass around water and snacks. They all take to Harry immediately, and he’s grateful that they like him because he can see how important this group is to Louis. They tell stories about what they did over spring break, and Louis takes the opportunity to show off his and Harry’s tattoos. The conversation is easy. Harry finds he quite likes Matthew, who is studying to be a pediatrician and who is the only one who can seem to keep up with Louis’ teasing step for step. It helps that Louis doesn’t let go of Harry’s waist the entire time.

On the walk back to their flat, Louis says, “Thank you for coming today.”

“Of course, Lou,” Harry replies, bumping Louis’ waist with his. “I wanted to meet your friends.”

“I know football isn’t your favorite thing in the world,” Louis goes on, “but it means a lot that you came along. They all really liked you. They thought you were hilarious. And you held your own!”

“Once you took me off defense,” Harry giggles.

“Well, there’s something for everyone,” Louis replies, leaning up to kiss Harry’s cheek. “But I really am grateful.”

“You did early morning yoga with me,” Harry says. “I was due for a little exertion, myself.”

“Well if it’s _exertion_ you’re looking for, I have a few other ideas,” Louis says, voice dropping low as he shoots Harry a wink.

It doesn’t take them long to get back to the flat.

\----

Louis is the first one to bring it up as he and Harry are curled up in his bed with the laptop between them. Harry has been showing him dumb videos on YouTube for the better part of an hour, giggles erupting from his lips and cheeks cratering with his dimples. It's fucking adorable, and maybe adorable wouldn't trigger the thought for someone else but for Louis, it's all he can think about.

To be fair, he's been thinking about it a lot lately. Definitely since Barcelona. Maybe even before. But as he's got his fingers curled around Harry's hair and they watch a compilation video of newscaster fails, Louis is absolutely sure he wants to bring it up.

“Haz,” he says, tugging on a curl. “Can I ask you something?”

Harry pauses the video and twists his head. “What's up, Lou?”

Louis runs his fingers along Harry's scalp because he knows how much he loves it. “I've been thinking about it, and I was wondering if you might want to get STD tested with me.”

Harry furrows his brows. “I'm clean.”

“I know,” Louis nods. “Me too. But I thought if we got tested, just to be sure and so we've got peace of mind, we could…”

When he trails off, Harry fixes him with an expectant look. He’s not sure if Harry is really _getting_ it, so he’s got to say it.

“We could fuck bare,” Louis finishes much less eloquently than he would have liked.

Harry grins at him. It's more of a smirk, in all honesty, because Harry is the worst. “Really?”

“Really.”

“You want us to do that?” he confirms, reaching out to squeeze Louis’ free arm.

“Yeah,” Louis says. “You're the only person I've been with in… A really long time, Haz. And you're the only person I want to be with. So if it's okay with you, and if you want it too, I want us to be able to do this.”

Harry leans forward and kisses him in lieu of a response, but Louis goes on.

“You have to tell me if you want that, too. If you're ready for it.”

“I'm ready,” Harry agrees. “I think that sounds like a very responsible, excellent idea.”

“Do you want to go tomorrow?” Louis asks, eyes starting to twinkle with mirth. “Because I've got to be honest, it's getting really tough for me to think about fucking you bare without getting hard.”

“Hmmm,” Harry hums. “Well in that case I think we should wait until we get our results back. Really build up the anticipation.”

“So you're saying you don't want to fuck until we do it without a condom?” Louis asks.

Harry grins and nods. He leans over and presses his lips to Louis’ ear, hot breath ghosting over his skin and tickling his earlobe. “The next time you fuck me, I want to feel you.”

Louis can fully get on board with that. “Clear your schedule for tomorrow, Harold. We've got a date at the clinic.”

\----

Getting STD tested shouldn't really be fun, but somehow Harry and Louis make it that way anyway. When they arrive, they’re both grinning like schoolboys in spite of the fact that they are literally in a health clinic. It’s sobering, looking around at the other patrons, but Louis takes the moment to just feel...fortunate. He’s here voluntarily with the person he cares about because they want to take care of each other. They’re not here under bad circumstances. If anything, they’re here out of good ones.

They end up getting taken back by separate nurses for confidentiality purposes. Louis isn’t easily embarrassed but he does blush at a few of the questions when the nurse gets to his sexual history. He tells her he hasn’t had sex with a girl in years and only has sex with boys. Only has sex with one boy, in particular, who is probably blushing like mad down the hall.

Louis almost wishes he could see it. Embarrassed Harry is adorable.

The test is quick and the nurse is efficient. She swabs his cheek, extracts the blood she needs, and bandages his arm. She tells him he’ll receive a phone call with the rapid results in about two hours and the official paper documentation of his results by the end of the week in the post. He thanks her and tells her goodbye. He isn’t looking where he’s going, though, so he ends up running right into Harry who is standing on the other side of the door licking a lolly.

“Hey babe,” Louis greets, reaching up to kiss his cheek. He sees his nurse smirk out of the corner of his eye when she passes around them to head back up front for the next patient. Louis’ eyes dart to the bright red sweet. “Hey, how come you got one of those?”

“Nurse Natalie said that I was the cutest patient she’s had all day and therefore I got a reward,” Harry says proudly, waving the lolly in Louis’ face like a toddler. Honestly, he’s worse than Doris and Ernie.

Louis _hmphs_ and that just spurs Harry on it seems, because he makes an exaggerated show of sticking his pink tongue out, the tiniest hint of red dye staining the top, and licking in one long motion down the side of the lolly. He’s such a little shit because they agreed they wouldn’t fuck until their results came back and now _all_ Louis can focus on is Harry’s pretty pink tongue putting on a show for him, all the places he wants that tongue to be licking instead of the sweet. It’s torture and Louis is going to make Harry pay for that.

“You’re terrible,” Louis finally settles on, once he tries to will his dick to remember that it’s not getting any action for a few days. “And you’re going to regret this, Styles.”

Harry looks unreasonably excited at the prospect. “I’m hoping so,” he teases. He grabs Louis by the arm and starts to pull him back towards the front. He grazes the spot where Louis had blood drawn and when Louis hisses out a _fuck_ , Harry goes more gently. “Sorry, Lou. Forgot.”

“It’s nothing,” Louis says, stepping up to walk in line with Harry and linking their arms together. “Do you want to get dinner out tonight?”

“Sure,” Harry replies. “Since we’re not going to be getting up to anything else tonight.” He winks at Louis and Louis is _definitely_ going to make him pay for this.

“Nothing that involves your obscene tongue,” Louis demands.

Harry’s loud laugh rings clear through the waiting room of the clinic and even out onto the street, where he tosses the lolly stick into a nearby bin and pulls Louis into a kiss that tastes like strawberries. So maybe Louis can forgive him.

\----

When the post comes on Friday morning, Harry and Louis are already gone. Louis doesn’t see the envelopes until he comes home from school that afternoon, two identical ones addressed to him and to Harry. He wastes no time in sending Harry a quick text: _Results are in. Opening mine now._

He rips open the envelope and unfolds a piece of paper with his name and contact information and the date of his clinic visit at the top, followed by a list of all the STDs he was tested for. He doesn’t bother looking at the names, just holds his breath to make sure the column lists “Negative” for every one. He reaches the end of the list and grins; he’s completely clean. He reads back to the top and goes down the list again, curious to see what the different diseases he was tested for are. It was a thorough test: Chlamydia, Hepatitis B, Hepatitis C, Gonorrhea, Herpes I, Herpes II, HIV, and Syphilis.

His phone buzzes with a test. From Harry, he reads: _All good???_

Louis just sends back a wink. The next minute, he gets another text: _You can open mine. I don’t mind_.

He texts back _Are you sure?_ , but Harry just repeats himself: _Please._

So Louis rips open Harry’s envelope next. He’s not worried. They’d both gotten the phone calls that they were negative for the rapid test as they were heading back to their flat after dinner, and it’s just a precaution, but Louis still holds his breath for a second until he reads an identical string of “Negative” down Harry’s results.

Louis lines the pages up next to each other on the table and makes sure that the list of results is visible. He snaps a picture and sends it to Harry, followed by the peach, eggplant, and fireworks emojis.

He doesn’t hear from Harry again.

Well, he doesn’t hear from him via text, but he sure hears from him an hour later when the front door to the flat swings open and slams shut. Harry appears in Louis’ bedroom door in seconds, face flushed and eyes wild.

“I ran home,” he says on a breath, already shucking off his jacket and slamming Louis’ door shut. “From campus.”

Louis grins wickedly and plays with the drawstrings of his joggers. He’d changed after he opening his and Harry’s results, and has been perched on his bed since that time waiting for Harry to get home. He also pulled on one of his most comfortable tanks, a ratty black one that’s been stretched too many times in the wash but that shows off his collarbones. The cutouts hang down low on his sides to expose his skin.

Harry is already tugging off his shoes and throwing them to the floor. He climbs up on the bed and up close, Louis can see his eyes blown dark and wide. His cheeks are pink, his bottom lip is bitten red, and Louis can _feel_ Harry’s skin buzzing with anticipation.

“You’re a tease, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry tells him as he leans over him. “I got hard in my lecture because of you.”

Louis preens at that. “Did you?” he asks. “Bet you wanted to get yourself off in the toilets, huh babe?”

Harry groans and leans down, peppers Louis’ cheeks with wet kisses. “Had to stop from touching myself right there in the lecture hall,” he says, voice low and wrecked already. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you fucking me bare.”

“It was your idea to wait,” Louis reminds him, but his own breath is already starting to catch when Harry attaches his lips to the base of his neck and starts to suck a bruise on his collarbone.

“Mmm,” Harry hums around his skin, “‘cause I want to feel you come inside me.”

Louis’ brain short-circuits at that. He feels too hot all of a sudden, too high-strung. His eyes are trained on the ceiling but he can’t focus. Harry’s mouth is wet and warm on him, his teeth pinching his skin before it’s soothed by Harry’s tongue running over him. He feels his cock getting hard beneath his joggers. He’d forgone pants, figuring that they’d head in this direction when Harry got home, but he wasn’t ready for how he’s ready to burst. Every brush of Harry’s mouth on him makes him feel hot all over, and Harry’s stomach is giving him the slightest bit of friction. Any time Harry moves, Louis feels the soft fabric of his joggers run over his cock, teasing him but providing almost no relief.

Harry seems happy to continue his assault on Louis’ neck all afternoon, so Louis grabs him by his hair and tangles his fingers around the curls. He tugs Harry’s head up and kisses him before he can protest, licking into his mouth quickly. He pulls him up so their pelvises are aligned and grinds up against him. He feels the outline of Harry’s own cock through his jeans and it feels incredible. The roughness of Harry’s jeans is giving him the relief he wants right now, made better when Harry responds in kind and starts grinding back against him.

He’s still clear-headed enough that he only allows it for a minute before he pulls back. They have other things he wants to do today. Namely, fuck Harry for the first time with no barrier between them.

Harry whines at the loss but lets Louis push at his shirt until he can pull it up over Harry’s head. He then gets to work on Harry’s jeans, making quick work of them so Harry can kick them the rest of the way off. He’s not wearing pants either, which Louis can totally get on board with because that means it’s one less article of clothing he needs to worry about before he can finally get inside him.

Harry helps him pull off his tank and joggers, and hisses when he sees Louis is also not wearing any pants. Louis’ cock is hard and red, the tip wet with precome. Harry reaches a hand out and rubs over Louis’ inner thigh, fingers teasing close to where Louis needs to be touched. Harry ghosts a finger along the head, fingers smearing in the precome beaded there.

“Fuck,” Louis breathes. “On your back, babe.”

Harry complies. They switch positions, Harry’s back resting on the bed and head supported by Louis’ pillows. Louis reaches into his bedside table and pulls out his bottle of lube. He almost grabs a condom before he remembers, and his heart warms when he realizes he doesn’t have to. They don’t need them.

He shuts the drawer and immediately opens the bottle, coating his fingers in lube. Harry is completely open for him, legs bent and separated. His cock is resting on his belly, hard and wet like Louis’ but Harry isn’t touching himself. His chest is heaving with labored breath, and his hands are working over his nipples like he needs something to do so he won’t touch. Louis leans forward and kisses Harry’s knee.

“Are you sure, babe?” he asks.

“I’m sure,” Harry says. He smiles at Louis, soft and fond and trusting. “I’m totally sure.”

Louis takes a deep breath before he rests one finger against Harry’s hole. He runs it along the rim before slowly pressing it in. Harry lets it in easily, muscles relaxed and pliant. Louis works it in with no resistance, stroking Harry’s walls and stretching him. He presses in another finger and begins to work Harry in earnest. He scissors his fingers and strokes, pressing up until he reaches Harry’s prostate. He watches in fascination as Harry’s cock blurts more precome out onto his stomach, as his fingers pinch at his nipples so they’re red and puffy.

“You feel perfect,” Louis praises, “so perfect. So tight around me. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock, love.”

“More,” Harry pleads, spreading his legs wider and grinding down. “Another Lou, please.”

“Okay, Haz,” Louis agrees. He brings another finger up and it catches on Harry’s rim. He presses it in slowly next to the other two and Harry cries out.

“Fuck,” Harry whines, “Louis.”

“Is this okay?” Louis asks. He presses his finger in a bit more. “Does it hurt too much?”

Harry shakes his head vehemently, hair splayed over the pillows. “Keep going.”

Louis does. He pushes in until he’s deep inside, and then he seeks out Harry’s prostate again. When he reaches it, he presses down and keeps his fingers there. Harry groans and his legs fall open completely. He snakes a hand down towards his cock. He doesn’t touch it, just runs his fingers through the wetness pooled there.

Louis continues to finger him open and watches as Harry spreads the precome over his stomach. His eyes are closed and his head is thrown back, mouth open a bit as he breathes heavily.

When Louis is satisfied Harry is stretched enough, he slowly withdraws his fingers. Harry chases them like he wants them back inside, but Louis pulls them out and kisses Harry’s inner thigh.

“Are you ready for me, babe?” he asks quietly.

Harry blinks his eyes open and peers down at him. Louis can’t quite believe the sight, Harry looking so fucked-out already, completely trusting and open for him. His cock is red and angry and so hard, and his rim is pink and wet. Louis gets to be inside of him, feel him around him. He's never felt so lucky.

He sits up on his knees and hovers down over Harry. He kisses him softly, little pecks against Harry’s swollen lips. “Are you ready?” he repeats himself softly.

“Fuck me,” is Harry’s reply. He reaches down and grips Louis’ cock along the base. “Want to feel you.” He feels around next to him for the bottle of lube and pours some into his hand, then runs it down Louis’ bare cock.

Louis hisses at the cool sensation, but it warms up quickly under Harry’s fingers and he groans. He’s had lube on his cock bare before, but only to wank. He’s never been inside someone before with just lube coating him.

Harry adjusts his back so he’s more comfortable and he brings his knees back up, bent towards his chest. “Fuck me,” he says again.

Louis nods and reaches down to line up. The first press of his cock against Harry’s hole has him crying out before he even pushes in. It’s so warm and wet, and he’s feeling _Harry_ against him. For the first time, with nothing between them. He keeps going, wants to feel that sensation all over him. When he starts to sink in, Harry echoes his cry and throws his head back to the pillows once more.

Louis can only keep pushing in, afraid if he stops he’ll get too caught up in feeling Harry around him and he’ll come before they even get started. When he’s deep inside, balls pressed to Harry’s arse, he pauses and just breathes out.

“You’re so tight,” Louis says. “You’re so hot, Haz.”

“Fuck, Louis,” Harry says, rotating his hips like he wants Louis deeper but he _can’t_ be any deeper. “You feel so amazing.”

“How’s it feel?” Louis asks. “Does it feel good?”

“So good,” Harry confirms. “I can feel _you_. You’re so hot.”

“Can I move?” Louis asks.

“Please,” Harry groans. He hitches his knees up higher, changing the angle. “Want you to fuck me now.”

Louis pulls back gently and thrusts back in. He pauses again, letting the sensations drift over him. The friction on his bare cock is unlike anything he’s ever felt before. Different than a hand or mouth, different than stroking himself. Harry is hot and tight and wet around him, smooth and rough at the same time. It feels ten million times _better_ than fucking him with a condom, not just because he can feel Harry all over him but because they’re doing this _together_. Because they trust each other.

Louis pulls back and thrusts in again. He does this a few times before it becomes more frantic. Harry grips his shoulders and digs his nails in, scraping along Louis’ skin and leaving red lines. He moans when Louis shifts his hip and thrusts at just the right angle, nailing Harry’s prostate. He keeps that angle and continues to fuck him, hard and fast. Harry's moans in his ear spur him on, every broken “ _yes_ ” and “ _there_ ” Harry cries out.

In that moment, Louis thinks he could say it. As he looks down at Harry, eyes screwed shut tight and mouth open on a perpetual gasp, cheeks red and flushed and hair matted with sweat, clenching around Louis and grinding down to meet Louis at every thrust, Louis wants to say it.

It’s in his head and his heart. He thinks it as Harry mumbles, “I’m gonna come, Louis. Please.” He thinks his body is saying it as he reaches down and grips Harry’s cock, starting to stroke in in time with his thrusts.

“Can you come for me, love?” Louis whispers. He leans down and kisses Harry’s chin and jawline. “Want to see you.”

“Gonna come,” Harry answers, clenching tight around Louis. “Harder.”

Louis gives one final thrust, hard, deep into Harry and Harry comes. He shoots over Louis’ hand and up his chest, clenching tight around Louis as Louis continues to grind deep into him. Louis doesn’t stop, continues to fuck Harry until he’s sure he’s done coming.

“Want you to come,” Harry moans, “please, Lou. Want you to come inside me.”

It’s a heady thought, and one that Louis wants too. Now that he’s not so focused on making Harry come, he picks up his thrusts to chase his own pleasure. He feels Harry’s hands snake down to his arse and squeeze.

“So good to me,” Harry whispers, “you were so good. Felt so good. Made me come so hard. C’mon, baby, come in me.”

It’s Harry’s rough voice coupled with the come he can feel smeared between them and Harry still clenching down around him that does it. Louis gives one final thrust and cries out, coming deep inside of Harry. He feels it pulse out of him hard, and Harry groans when he feels it. He immediately grabs Louis’ neck and pulls him down so he can kiss him, keeping his legs wrapped tight around Louis and keeping him inside.

Louis feels pulse after pulse, can feel how he comes into Harry and not a condom, and he whines into Harry’s mouth as he grinds into him one last time, gently so he doesn’t hurt him, until he’s done coming.

He stays inside of Harry, and Harry happily keeps him there. They kiss until their breathing has returned to normal, until Louis is mostly soft. He pulls out before he goes soft completely, and can’t help but look down. His cock is coated in come, and he sees little beads of it leak out of Harry’s hole when he pulls out. He can’t help but run his fingers over the rim, mesmerized at the sight. He’s surprised when he feels Harry tug on his hand until he brings it up to his mouth, and Harry sucks Louis’ fingers into his mouth.

Louis raises himself up and attaches himself to Harry’s side, throwing a leg over his waist and wrapping an arm over his chest, pulling him close. He kisses at every bit of skin he can reach, mostly Harry’s shoulder and part of his chest.

It’s the closest he’s ever felt to another person in his life.

“Thank you,” Harry whispers. “That was amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” Louis says. “It was amazing because you’re amazing. I loved that so much.”

“Me too,” Harry says. Louis looks up to see a happy smile on his face, eyes closed in contentment.

They’re going to need to get up eventually. Louis wants to make sure Harry cleans up properly. They need to change his sheets. But for now, Louis just shuts his eyes as well and silently says the words he’s been thinking into Harry’s skin as they both drift to sleep.

\----

“So I bet you’re wondering why we’ve gathered you today,” Harry starts off tentatively.

Niall and Liam share a look.

“I mean, it’s Sunday dinner,” Liam squints at him unsurely.

“And why I’ve made your favorites,” Harry continues, ignoring Liam’s remark.

“I”m sure Niall is not questioning that, babe,” Louis mumbles around a grin.

Christ, Harry’s palms are sweating.

“Right, so,” Harry rubs his clammy hands together. “So, living with you guys the last three years has been amazing and like, I know we like, sort of joke about living together all the time when we get drunk, but like-”

“My God,” Louis says under his breath, eyes rolled to the ceiling. “Children, Harry and I are planning on moving in together after graduation.”

Niall and Liam stare at them blankly.

Oh God. They hate them now for ditching them.

Finally, Niall’s face breaks out into a grin. “Pay up, Payno! I said after graduation! I fucking win.”

Liam shuts his eyes and takes a calming breath. “You two couldn’t have waited until September? I bet on September and you guys telling us at graduation. It was a double bet.”

Harry blinks.

Louis gives Niall a high five. “Wait, when did you bet on us telling you? Did you bet on us telling you after spring break, too?”

“Louis!” Harry yells shrilly while Niall laughs out a, “Yes! I was fucking right on both.”

“40 pounds you owe me, Payno. Let’s get to it,” Niall pats the table loudly.

Liam rolls his eyes and empties his wallet. “I literally hate you guys.”

Harry watches in horror, while Louis laughs gleefully.

“Seriously, you guys aren’t mad?” he asks, still suspicious even though Niall is smiling like mad and even Liam is fighting a smile as modal counts the money.

“Why would we be mad?” Liam asks, eyebrows furrowed. “I’m probably going to move in with Trevor.” He blushes when Niall and Louis whoop. “I’m applying for some private schools to be a trainer for sports programs, and he’s applying for like low-level football leagues.”

“And I’m most likely going to London,” Niall announces.

“What?” Everyone whips their heads to Niall.

“What do you mean ‘what’? You know it’s my dream to own a flat in London and literally talk to no one,” Niall says seriously. “Plus, shit ton of jobs.”

“Well, then,” Louis says. “I think we’re both applying around here, staying up North for a bit, but like-”

“I’ll still host our dinners but we’ll make them bi-monthly?” Harry suggests.

Niall takes a mouthful of his fajitas. “You better.”

Liam laughs brightly, while Niall winks.

He thinks they will all be alright.

\----

There’s a package on Harry’s bed when he gets home with a note that says “Don’t touch x” in Louis’ handwriting.

Harry stares at it.

He hadn’t asked for anything, and it wasn’t a holiday. His classes were starting to bury him, and the end of the school year coming up on the horizon was apparently making the kids in primary go nuts, but Harry hadn’t remembered asking for something, or even Louis buying anything.

Especially something he’s not allowed to touch. With a note like that, he wants to touch it. He wants to know what it is.

Is it for him? Is it for Louis? Is it for both of them?

Harry tries to get his work done, but finds himself staring at the box every couple of minutes, afraid his movement will suddenly make the box move out of it’s place.

He’s just so damn curious.

Finally, he hears the front door close and the sound of Louis coming in through the door, throwing his shoes off and padding his way down the hall.

“I see you didn’t touch it,” Louis says as soon as he opens the door. His gaze flickers to the box then back to Harry.

“Nope,” Harry says, watching Louis reaction. He feels like this is something more than what it seems. Something is happening and Harry’s not quite sure what it is, but there’s a flutter forming in his stomach and he’s suddenly excited for what’s in the box.

“Can I now?” he asks.

Louis walks toward the bed, giving him a kiss, one that Harry feels all the way in his toes, before turning around and walking toward the door.

“In a little bit, I’ve got to fix something for my lessons tomorrow,” Louis says off-handedly.

Harry stares longingly at the box. He wants to open it now, but then as he glances up at Louis’ retreating back, he thinks this might be leading to something better than he could imagine.

\----

Louis doesn’t come back in for three hours. He barely gets any work done, too keyed up and obsessed with the box, small and straight out of the post. There’s no return label, it’s upside down and trying to find the return label would require touching it and Harry can’t do that. Harry is about ready to beg when Louis walks back into his room.

Louis moves the box to Harry’s drawer and then climbs into bed with Harry cuddling immediately, kissing his neck in greeting.

“Tell me about your day,” he requests. They talk about their days until Liam brings takeaway home, and then they watch reruns of Game of Thrones with Liam and Niall until it’s time for everyone to go to bed.

Louis doesn’t mention the package again and Harry stares at it until he falls asleep.

Louis is up before him the next day, kissing him on the forehead as he quietly leaves the room to get to school on time, leaving Harry to sleep in.

It’s not until Harry’s in class that he gets a text.

_You may touch the box when you get home. Open it. x_

He can’t think about anything else the rest of class.

\---

Harry practically runs into the flat, grabbing the package off his drawer where Louis left it.

He grabs his keys and slices it open easily, not even bothering to check the label.

He removes the plastic and paper hastily, before he stops.

Inside the package are two soft cotton scarves, one a solid cerulean blue with the faintest bit of sparkle, and the other a deep emerald green.

Harry’s thumbing at the soft scarves in his hands when the note he had been given with the package catches his gaze.

_Don’t touch x_

Everything clicks and for a moment Harry isn’t sure he can breathe.

Louis had been testing him, prepping him for the exact use of the scarves with the package and oh my God. Harry’s hard.

He’s hard and it’s Friday which means he still has to go to class again before he can come home and get his hands on Louis.

Fuck.

\-----

Harry’s keyed up through most (see: all) of his next class thinking about being tied to the bed, arms stretched while Louis works his way over him, unable to reach out and just touch him. Thinks about Louis fucking him while his hands are out of reach, and about him fucking Louis, unable to get his hands on him. He can’t stop thinking about how Louis had suggested it so many weeks ago and now he’s just aching with want. He wants to feel his wrists tugging against the material of the scarves and he just wants. He wants Louis. He’s about to run out of the classroom, knowing that Louis is already home from the school already.

His professor stops him though, halfway out the door. “Harry! Just wanted to check in with your thesis, how’s the songs coming along?”

Harry freezes. Fuck.

“Um, they’re great. Just finishing touches on the lyrics and getting the compositions done now.” He adjusts himself slightly in his pants, trying to will his boner that he’s been half supporting all class to go down before his professor notices.

“That’s great, I’m glad. Have a good weekend,” he tells him cheerfully.

“Thank you! You too!” Harry practically runs out of the room.

\----

When he gets to the flat, there’s no sign of Liam and Niall, and there’s steam coming the bathroom.

Harry’s sweating and he’s so turned on by thought of Louis buying those scarves and telling him to not touch them and turned on by the thought Louis denying him permission to touch _him_ that he runs into Louis’ bedroom only to find it empty.

He goes for his bedroom next, finding Louis standing there in nothing but his pants, bent over drying off his hair.

His ass is completely on display, thin material of his pants tight over him, while his thighs stretch from the bent motion.

“Please let me fuck you,” Harry blurts out immediately, as images of Louis bouncing on him float through his head.

Louis stands up slowly turning around, eyebrows raised..

His eyes trail over Harry carefully, eyeing him from head to toe, stopping ever so slightly at the bulge in Harry’s jeans.

“Is that what you want?” Louis takes a step towards him. “Got yourself all worked up just from opening your present, did you?”

Harry swallows as Louis takes another step closer.

“Been thinking about it all day, haven’t you? You being tied the bed unable to touch where you want?” Louis’ chest touches Harry’s as he steps toward him again. “You want to fuck me while you’re tied to the bed and can’t touch, do you?”

Harry can’t form words, can only stare at Louis’ mouth and feel the heat radiating off of him as he crowds Harry’s space.

“Yes,” Harry breathes out, licking his lips.

Louis’ eyes follow the movement, before looking back up at Harry for one heated moment.

“Undress.”

Harry strips his clothes quickly, throwing them onto the floor. “Good job, love. Now get on the bed, make yourself comfortable.”

Harry’s heart races as he gets on the bed lying in the center of it, watching Louis grab the scarves toying with them in his hands.

He tracks every movement and his skin feels on fire. The scarves look so beautiful in Louis’ hands.

“What’s your color, Harry?” Louis asks as he gets closer, resting his hand on Harry’s cheek. .

“Green, _green_ , Louis, please,” Harry babbles.

Louis climbs on top of Harry in instant, his mouth hovering over Harry’s before he’s kissing him, finally. He licks into Harry’s mouth easily, hot and insistent. Louis grinds down as he lifts Harry’s arms toward the bed posts, pinning them down. Harry bucks up into him, helplessly, whimpering into the kiss.

Louis tuts, and climbs off, taking Harry’s left wrist in his hand and tying it up. “You’re lucky I’ve practiced ties in my free time. Knew you wanted this so I had to be prepared.”

Harry’s heart swells. “Please, Lou.”  


“Good?” Louis asks, as he finishes the tie on his first wrist.

Harry nods.

Louis presses his mouth to Harry’s nipples as a reward, and Harry gasps at the unexpected sensation. Louis bites and sucks before his heat leaves completely and he moves to the other side, tying up Harry’s right wrist.

Harry’s not sure he can breathe.

He’s been half hard for hours and now he feels like he’s about to burst.

He can see the thick line of Louis’ cock in his pants and it makes his mouth water.

“Good?” Louis asks again, tugging at the the soft material of the scarf. “They feel okay?”

Harry struggles against the scarves, not too tight, and just the right amount of pressure. “Yeah-” Harry’s voice cuts off as Louis presses down on his sailboat tattoo, with the scarf on top of it.

He groans.

Louis seems lost in thought before he snaps out of it, walking towards the edge of the bed.

Harry’s wrists twitch involuntarily.

Louis catches the movement, eyes dark as he hooks his thumb under the waistband of his pants.

“You look so beautiful spread out for me love, you’re doing so well,” Louis praises.

Harry preens, as he watches mesmerized, the similarity of the movements to the first time he was tied up making him feel like he’s stuck in a moment he never wants to leave.

Louis smirks, before taking his pants off quickly, no show.

Harry gulps, as Louis climbs onto the bed slowly. He can see every curve of his body, every line of his muscles. Harry swears he will never get tired of seeing Louis’ tanned naked body, approaching him. Especially with the dark look in Louis’ eyes.

If he didn’t take off his pants as a show then- oh.

Oh.

Louis settles himself between Harry’s legs, kissing up his thighs, and around his hips, careful to avoid his cock. Harry is helpless to stare at the line of his spine, the roundness of his bum. The silky skin that Harry desperately aches to touch.

He sucks and bites wetly, everywhere but where Harry wants him to suck.

“Louis,” he breathes out. His wrists buck against the ties, desperate to pull Louis’ head exactly where he wants him.

“Not yet love,” Louis bites roughly at his hip. “Haven’t even prepped myself yet.”

Harry moans, biting the inside of his arm, in order to gain some semblance of control of himself. There’s sweat pooling at his hairline already and he’s spurting precome at Louis’ every little movement. He can feel the heat pooling in his stomach. His breath becomes short and his hips are rocking up into Louis’ mouth, begging him to put his mouth where he wants to.

“Don’t come,” Louis pulls off him wetly. “Gonna make it so much better to wait until I say, isn’t it?”

Harry nods jerkily, trying to catch his breath. He tries to will himself off the edge, eager to please Louis. To wait until Louis lets him.

“Good love, you’re doing so good,” Louis compliments again sitting up, getting his fingers wet with lube, before aligning himself so Harry can watch him.

Harry waits with bated breath, fingers twitching.

God, he wants to touch. He wants so badly to touch.

His cock blurts precome.

Louis’ fingers tease his own rim.

Harry bites at his arm again as Louis presses his finger in, his eyes fluttering closed.

He’s quick with his finger, pressing in and out, chest heaving with each movement, and pretty little moans leaving his mouth.

“Another,” Harry rasps out, and Louis throws him a look.

Louis pulls his finger out completely, and Harry tries to muffle his whine. “What was that, love?”

Harry swallows, as Louis finger returns back to his hole, adding another finger. Louis gasps at the added pressure, fucking himself down on his fingers. Harry tugs against the soft material of the scarves wanting to get his hands on the thick flesh of Louis’ ass, to sink his fingers in him.

Louis becomes breathy quickly, hips rocking and rim clenching around his fingers.

He adds another and Harry gasps at the stretch it makes, and the groan that leaves Louis’ lips as he crooks his fingers, hitting his prostate.

There’s a flush growing on Louis’ chest and Harry aches with the need to just reach out and touch him.

“Come on,” Harry whispers, as Louis’ breaths become quicker. He can feel his hips rocking, mimicking the movement that Louis is making.

Louis takes his fingers out, wiping them, before applying more in his hand, and tugging on Harry’s cock. Harry throws his head back, trying to will himself not to come, but Louis’ hand is gone as quickly as it came and then there’s hot heat clenching around him, no barrier of a condom at all.

Harry’s eyes fly open as he watches Louis lower himself down onto Harry’s cock, Harry’s wrists pulling on the scarves. Harry can feel every inch of him, hot and tight around his cock. He swears nothing in his life has ever felt as good as being inside Louis, nothing but skin contact.

God. He’s never been inside someone bare before, he’s never been tied up before, and he can feel himself shaking with how overwhelmed he is.

Harry feels hot all over, trying to stay calm enough, waiting for the moment where Louis tells him he can come.

He concentrates on Louis’ face, watching his eyebrows scrunched up in pleasure, his jaw slack as he builds up a rhythm, the redness of his chest, the line of his muscles in his arms, as he holds himself up, the bob of his cock as he rolls his hips, the spurts of precome.

“Come on, love,” Louis breathes out. Harry starts to meet his thrusts, shallowly, slowly. Louis gasps, and Harry is helpless to just watch. He’s desperate to come, desperate to touch, and he knows he has to wait.

Louis is in every single one of his senses, scratching at his chest, pulling on his arms to make his wrists pull against the scarves, whining high when Harry speeds up his thrusts.

“Harder,” Louis gasps out, “Give it to me harder. Know you can do it, babe. Need you to fuck me harder.”

Harry thrusts up harder, meeting every roll of Louis’ hips spot on, until Louis’ is crying out.

“Right there,” Louis pants, a sheen of sweat covering his body. “You’re doing so well, love. Giving it to me so good.”

Harry cries out, biting the inside of his arm. He’s going to come, he can feel it in his toes.

“Kiss me,” Louis demands, not breaking a roll in his hips as Harry stretches his neck up to kiss Louis wetly.

Louis is whining, these high breathy noises and Harry just wants to grip his hips so bad, he wants to dig his fingers into Louis’ ass as he rocks into him. He pulls against the wrists again, while licking into Louis mouth, thrusting even harder eager to please Louis, to keep giving it to him just how he likes.

Louis sits up as Harry sets a brutal pace that has Louis clenching around him in seconds spurting between them and grinding down so hard that Harry see stars. He's so close he can feel the heat pooling in his belly again, but then Louis is pulling off of him and Harry is whining at the loss of contact.

“Please,” Harry whimpers, cock throbbing.

Louis kisses him languidly, hands trailing softly, soothingly over his torso, as his heart rate slows down from pounding to just rapid.

“Please, Lou.”

“What's your color baby?” Louis asks, eyes a clear blue, close to Harry's face as he kisses Harry's cheek gently.

“Green,” Harry breathes out as Louis shifts himself down Harry's body until he settles between Harry’s legs.

“And now?” Louis asks as he kisses his way up the inside of Harry's thigh.

“Green,” Harry repeats, reveling in the feel of Louis mouth on his thighs again.

Louis mouth moves up closer, lifting the Harry’s legs over his shoulders, his mouth hovering over his hole.

Oh god.

“And now?” Louis looks up at him, coquettishly.

“Gre- _en,”_ Harry moans as Louis licks a stripe over his hole, just as quickly as the word is out of his mouth.

He gasps and moans as Louis works his way over him, licking and moving his tongue devilishly. Harry writhes into the sheets at every swipe of his tongue, unable to hold in any of the sounds he's making.

Louis grips his ass roughly, nails digging in as he licks into him, and Harry bucks his hips up desperate for some sort of friction.

His wrists pull against the scarves roughly, making the bed creak. He needs to touch, needs to get Louis to touch, he just needs _something_.

Louis stops.

“You've been doing so good love. So, so, good for me. You think you can come just from my tongue and my fingers?” Louis punctuates the question with a kiss to Harry’s rim.

Harry nods, unable to form words as Louis smiles at him, soft and proud.

Louis works his tongue in and out as Harry grinds down into him, chest flushed and heaving, his cock throbbing.

He wants relief so badly he could cry.

“Please Lou, please, please,” Harry babbles.

“You've been so good baby, waiting all day yesterday without touching your present and then today. You've been hard all day, haven't you love? You've been so good,” Harry cries out as Louis slips in a finger, “Think you deserve to come now, don't you? You've been waiting for it for so long.”

Harry nods jerkily as Louis presses his tongue along side his finger and that's all Harry needs before he's coming all over his own chest, with a gasp.

Louis pulls his finger out, climbing up and untying Harry's wrists, kissing them gently.

“Was that okay? How are you feeling?” Louis asks as Harry stretches out his arms:

“More than okay. Was amazing. Feel amazing.” Harry kisses him, letting Louis settle into his chest. They rest quietly, bodies still warm, trying to catch their breath and come back to neutral.

“‘m glad I told the boys not to come home,” Louis mumbles after a few moments.

“What?” Harry asks, mind still hazy.

“I’m glad I planned this and told the boys not to be home,” Louis clarifies, then pauses. “You left the door wide open.”

Harry laughs, noticing the bedroom door.

“You got me very worked up. I couldn’t help myself. You were teasing me,” Harry pouts.

“I was, love. But I think you might have liked it a bit too much,” he teases, kissing Harry’s chest.

Harry scoffs. “And to think I was going to carry you into the shower again to clean off.”

Louis looks up and rolls his eyes. “You’re still going to do it anyway.”

Harry stands up abruptly, making Louis cling around his waist.

Well, he’s not wrong.

\----

Louis wonders if he's ever going to get used to the unique, smoky smell of Rusty's, but tonight is not that night. He's sitting at a table close to the bar and he swears, if he gets bumped in the back one more time...

“Lou,” Harry says into his ear, pressing a kiss to the shell, “relax.”

Louis huffs and fixes Harry with a look. “These people are annoying.”

“Switch with me, Tommo,” Trevor offers, already standing up. “If someone does it to me I'll just trip ‘em.”

Trevor is sitting on Harry's other side, so Louis gets up and swaps chairs. Rusty's is particularly busy tonight, and Louis isn't sure why. It's another open mic night, but it's like there's been a mass exodus of Leeds students into the pub.

“Tap is on offer tonight,” Niall says, as though he's reading Louis’ mind. “Cheap night out.”

Louis wonders if he's getting too old for this shit when a gaggle of girls nearby laughs too loud.

He's glaring in their direction when he feels fingers rub along the nape of his neck and play with the baby hairs growing there. He feels his shoulders relax and he heaves a sigh, turning around to face Harry who is just smiling at him.

“You're cute when you're mad,” Harry tells him, lips turned up in a way that suggests he's mocking, just a little.

“I'm always cute,” Louis counters. He leans forward to kiss that smirk right off Harry's face.

Harry allows it for a couple of seconds before pulling back. “I've gotta go get ready,” he explains. “I'll see you in a bit.”

The first performer is decent. Well, Louis thinks they're decent. They might actually be pretty good but Louis is in the mood to be difficult about everyone and everything around him except for his friends and Harry. Harry ends up coming on third, his guitar strapped around his neck and a brilliant smile lighting up his face.

He looks good. He always looks good, but Louis especially loves the white T-shirt he has on that he and Harry constantly share. It really glows under the artificial light and contrasts with his dark hair beautifully. But maybe Louis is biased.

“Hello, I'm Harry Styles,” Harry greets into the microphone. “Thank you all for coming out tonight. I've got a cover for you. You may know it. This is Wonderwall.”

It's like the collective breath of the audience is cut off because you can hear a pin drop in the stunned, awkward silence of the crowd. Harry strums the classic opening chords, looking completely unaffected.

Louis is honestly wondering what the fuck Harry was thinking.

Then, abruptly, the chords stop and Harry says, “I'm totally fucking with you.”

Almost like it's on cue, the audience laughs and even a couple of people hoot from the back. Harry is barely holding back laughter himself, and Louis wants to kiss him all over his stupid face.

“I'm sorry, I've always wanted to do that. You all looked so freaked.”

Louis feels Trevor nudge him in the arm. “Your boyfriend is such a dork,” he tells him, snickering into his ear.

Louis can feel his eyes crinkling from now hard he's smiling. Yes, his boyfriend is a dork who has literally the _worst_ sense of humor.

“I do have a cover for you,” Harry goes on. “It's still from the nineties but it's by kind of a one hit wonder. If you like nineties music you should know it. It's one of my favorite songs. This is Barely Breathing.”

Louis does recognize it, though Harry's take definitely relies on the acoustic pop feel. It's catchy, really catchy. He spies a few people singing along.

“You really had me going wishing on a star that the black holes that surround you are heavier by far.”

It's angrier than Harry typically plays, but his deep voice catches in all the right places and he even sounds like he's _growling_ at points. Harry _sounds_ like he's really feeling the anger and pain of the song, and he's incredibly grateful Harry isn't singing it trying to send him a message. The crowd is into it, even the patrons who didn't pay attention to the first two performers.

When it's over, the pub cheers as usual - because they always do, for Harry. He wins over everyone. He smiles and waves before disappearing behind the curtain.

“I almost pissed myself when he broke out Wonderwall,” Niall says to the table, taking a healthy swallow from his pint. “Holy shit.”

“I wonder how long he's been planning that for,” Liam giggles. “That's such a Harry thing to do.”

“I'm glad you all had such faith in me to pull off one of the most classic songs of an era,” Harry cuts in, sliding in next to Louis again and grinning at them. His face is flushed and his hairline is glistening with sweat. Louis finally gets to kiss his face like he wanted to.

“I seriously thought you'd lost your mind,” Niall says, laughing into his drink. “Like, we're almost at the end of open mic nights and you pick _that_.”

Harry laughs. “I wasn't sure if I was going to make the joke but some of the people in the crowd looked really bored and there was this table in the back who talked during the other two performances so I thought I'd spice things up a bit.”

“You had us all fooled, love,” Louis tells him. Harry preens under the praise and pecks Louis on the lips.

“Here is to Harry, who just made a couple of patrons shit themselves,” Trevor says, and raises his glass.

They giggle as they clink glasses, and then the next performer comes on stage.

Harry molds himself to Louis’ side for the rest of the night, steals swigs from his pints, and distracts him with kisses when the people around them start to irritate him again.

All in all, it's a pretty good night.

\----

Harry starts baking as soon as he gets done from class. He’s partially stress baking from his increased pressure of his classes and partially from the fact that both his family and Louis’ family are coming for lunch the next day.

“Babe. This is your fourth batch of cupcakes. My mum jokes it’s like feeding an army, but it’s actually not, you know?” Louis kisses Harry’s shoulder as he wraps his arms around him.

Harry brushes his hair away from his eyes with his forearm. “I know, but like, this is the first time I’m meeting everyone, and the first time everyone is meeting together and, I’m just...really nervous,” Harry shrugs sheepishly.

Louis turns him around gently. “Babe, there’s nothing to be nervous about. Trust me. My family already adores you, and meeting you is only going to make them love you that much more,” Louis kisses the corner of his mouth. “And our mums are going to get on so well, and your sister is going to love my sisters. They’ll probably all get on so well they’ll plan lunches without us.”

Harry stares at him, unsure. “You really think they’ll have lunch without us?”

“Yeah,” Louis tells him, a soft smile creeping on his face. “But I think they’ll like coming to our place better.”

Harry kisses him so thoroughly, he forgets there’s cupcakes until the oven beeps.

\----

The Tomlinson-Deakin clan enters in a flurry of kisses and hugs and, thank God, minimal crying. There’s diaper bags and purses and snacks and so much more stuff than Harry is used to.

It’s loud.

It’s so loud, but with the whole clan in their flat it feels like home.

Louis’ smile is brighter than a thousand suns and Harry can’t help but just sit and admire him with the littlest twins, with Lottie and Fizzy, with his mum who he kisses over and over.

It’s entirely too much for Harry to handle and he feels so inexplicably full of happiness, he doesn’t think he’ll ever surpass it.

That is until his mum walks in and is kissing and hugging Louis’ mum, introducing herself with a big smile on her face, admiring the younger twins, and Gemma is yelling out Lottie’s name and giving her a big hug.

Louis and Harry look to each other confused.

“How do you two know each other?” Louis asks, eyebrows raised.

“Gemma is well known on social media because of her writing and like, mutual friends. And she watches my YouTube channel. God, Lou. Do you need to know everything? Can’t a girl have friends?”

Gemma winks at Harry, while Louis rolls his eyes at his sister.

“Well I’m glad we all know each other,” Louis announces. “We are going to have to get familiar with each other.”

Jay and Anne’s eyes snap to their hands, simultaneously. “Oh my God!” Harry squeaks. “We’re not engaged!”

Louis cackles loudly. “Not yet,” He winks at Harry whose face is fucking aflame. “We are going to move in together though, hopefully.”

Everyone’s silent for a moment before Jay and Anne and everyone else are hounding them with questions and then Fizzy is saying loudly, “Well, that explains their matching tattoos.”

That sets everyone off again.

\----

Lunch honestly goes over too well. Doris spends her time attached to Louis, while Harry and Ernie get on like nobody’s business. Harry has seen Louis look incredible under a variety of circumstances, but he looks particularly good with a baby on his hip. Harry doesn't let that thought fester.

Harry takes a thousand pictures of everyone’s smiles and everyone’s interactions so he can litter their future flat with them. He takes photos of Lottie doing Gemma’s makeup, of Anne feeding Doris and Ernie, of Robin and Dan hiding in the corner with beer, of Louis and Fizzy going in together on an argument and let’s Louis take a photo of Daisy and Pheobe braiding Harry’s hair.

He’s never felt like part of a family like he’s felt with the Tomlinson-Deakin and Styles-Twist families all in one flat.

And when he meets Louis’ eyes across the room, crinkling so hard that Harry’s convinced the creases will be there forever, he knows Louis feels the exact same.

\----

“And I ain’t missing you at all since you've been gone away,” Harry mumbles/sings next to Louis on the bed. Louis has a book open on the bed in front of him, a highlighter in hand and a pen stowed behind his ear that keeps falling off. He thought it might make him look like a real teacher if he could master the pen-behind-the-ear thing, but so far it just keeps falling off and stabbing him in the leg.

He glances down at Harry who is sitting on the end of the bed, sheets of music in front of him and his guitar on his lap. He’s been writing for the better part of an hour, some song Louis isn't allowed to hear yet, and it’s nice. The background noise is soothing, as is Harry’s deep voice singing out aborted lyrics or humming notes before he strums them on his guitar. But this song sounds familiar, and he’s pretty sure it’s not one of Harry’s originals.

“That sounds familiar,” Louis tells him. He nudges him with his foot.

“It’s by Tom Waite,” Harry tells him, looking up from where he was scribbling on a paper. “It’s called Missing You.”

Louis shakes his head. “I don’t… I don’t recognize that name but the song sounds so familiar.”

A smirk turns up the ends of Harry’s lips and he laughs.

“What?” Louis asks.

“You probably recognize it because they played it on One Tree Hill. Tyler Hilton did a cover of it.”

A lightbulb goes off in Louis’ head and he exclaims, “The rain scene! Haley and Nathan!”

Harry shrugs. “I guess? I just know they played it.”

“I fucking love that song,” Louis says. “I fucking love that scene.”

“I thought Lucas was your boy?” Harry asks him, grinning when Louis flashes him an indignant look.

“I can appreciate Nathan too, okay? Especially because season two Lucas was such a douchebag.”

Harry laughs and goes back to his writing. “I’ll be sure to let Chad Michael Murray know that if I ever meet him.”

Louis glares at him as he sees Harry return to his work. He is such a shit, and Louis is going to get him back for that. He tries to refocus on his reading, but honestly, his brain is no longer with it. He keeps reading over the same paragraph multiple times, eyes blurring over certain words that no longer look like words such as “pedagogy” and “positive behavioral supports.” Once again, he’s not sure how _reading_ about teaching is supposed to help him _teach_.

Down at the end of the bed, Harry’s attention is completely back on his guitar. He’s got his hair up in a bun, a few curls coming loose at the nape of his neck and twisting at awkward angles. He’s also wearing just his boxer briefs, giving Louis a completely unobstructed view of Harry’s skin. The light hairs coating his long, milky legs. The dark tattoos littering his skin, including the fully-healed sailboat on his arm. His chest is smooth and white, peppered with freckles and Harry’s two extra nipples that are bright pink against the creaminess of his skin.

Louis shuts his book, but Harry doesn’t even notice. He pulls the pen from behind his ear and tosses it to the floor, followed by his book. Harry still doesn’t look up.

“Hey Haz?” he says.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, not looking up from his guitar where he’s strumming the same chord over and over again.

“We got the afternoon.”

Harry looks up, finally, eyebrows furrowed. He looks so adorable when he’s focused. “What?”

“You got this room for two.”

Harry looks around, and then fixes Louis with a look. “Louis, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“One thing I’ve left to do, discover me discovering you.” His lips twist up in a smirk when Harry levels him with another look.

“Louis, I’m working, I’m trying to finish this song and-”

Louis just sits up and crawls to the end of the bed so he’s leaning forward, face directly in front of Harry’s. He reaches a hand out and strokes it along Harry’s cheek. “One mile to every inch of your skin like porcelain.”

“Louis…”

“One pair of candy lips and your bubblegum tongue.”

Harry drops his pencil to the bed and rests his guitar flat on his legs. “You’re not seriously quoting John Mayer at me, are you?”

Louis just smiles wider and picks up where he left off, singing this time: “And if you want love, we’ll make it. Swim in a deep sea of blankets.”

Harry can’t help the indignant smile that stretches over his lips. He blushes and pushes at Louis’ shoulder. “Louis, come on.”

“Take all your big plans and break ‘em. This is bound to be a while.”

“Louis-”

“Your body is a wonderlaaaaaaaaaaaaand,” Louis sings exaggeratedly in Harry’s face, nuzzling his forehead into Harry’s chin until he starts giggling. “Your body is a wonder, I’ll use my hands. Your body is a wonderland.” He deliberately cracks his voice on the last note in a poor imitation of John Mayer, and Harry knocks all of his papers off the bed, he starts laughing so hard.

Louis pulls Harry’s guitar from his lap and gently rests it against the side of his bed, careful so it doesn’t fall to the ground. He tugs on Harry until he comes further up the bed and Louis can push him down against it. Harry’s cheeks are on fire, and his giggles start up again when Louis wiggles his eyebrows down at him.

He leans over Harry on one elbow and rubs his fingers along the bun tied at the top of Harry’s head. He pulls on the tie until Harry’s hair comes loose. “There’s something about the way the hair falls in your face,” he sings. “And I love the shape you take when crawling towards the pillow case.”

“This is so embarrassing to witness,” Harry says, turning his head into the pillow and grinning so hard his cheeks look like they’ll be permanently dimpled.

“You tell me where to go and though I might leave to find it, I’ll never let your head hit the bed without my hand behind it.” Louis runs his hand over Harry's forehead, then down along Harry’s stomach, then back up until he’s massaging along Harry’s collarbone.

Harry’s breath catches at the feeling of it, and he closes his eyes, seemingly enjoying Louis’s soft touches over his whole body. Louis caresses his chest and pecs, runs his fingers gently over Harry’s nipples - all four of them. There’s no heat behind it. He just loves watching Harry breathe, the way his chest rises and falls. He loves watching his nipples harden under the attention, the way his stomach muscles tense when Louis runs his fingers over his belly and sides. He goes on like that for minutes, tender touches all over Harry’s chest and shoulders and neck, all the way up to his ears and jaw.

“Damn baby,” Louis whispers into Harry’s ear, “you frustrate me.” He reinforces his point by running his hand down Harry’s side until he can lightly grip Harry’s thigh. “I know you're mine, all mine, all mine. But you look so good it hurts sometimes.”

Harry’s eyes blink open, glazed and dark. He’s barely half-hard under Louis’ attention, but he still reaches up and pulls Louis into a kiss.

Not much work gets done the rest of that afternoon.

\----

“So I’ve had this tab open for like a week on my laptop and I keep forgetting to show you,” Louis starts off when he settles with his laptop into Harry’s bed.

“Okay,” Harry says. “Show me.”

Louis shows him the same screen that’s been sitting open on his laptop the past few days as well.

He laughs loudly, sound cutting into the silence of the room.

“What?” Louis asks, confused, but his smile sort of mirrors Harry’s.

Harry shows Louis the same website that’s been open on his. “I’ve had the same site open as well.”

Louis laughs incredulously. “I don’t know how we keep doing things like this.”

Harry moves the laptop out of Louis’ lap and settles himself there instead. “Maybe it’s because we’re just meant to be,” he suggests.

Louis hums. “Maybe,” he says with a smirk, before fitting his mouth over Harry’s.

It takes them a little while to get back to the flat searching.

\----

They end up finding three flats in their price range around Leeds. They also find two flats in their price range in London, just as an option too.

Those were studio apartments, but Louis had liked the idea of “seeing you naked from the kitchen because there are no walls”.

He had said it sounded like a dream.

They just needed to find jobs first, then they could settle in on their location.

But looking at flats, actually picking ones they liked (“This has a balcony, Lou!”, “Onsite laundry is a must, come on Louis, honestly?”, “Pets allowed! Let’s get a puppy, Harry please.”) made Harry fizzle with excitement.

He can’t fucking wait is the thing.

And he knows he’s not alone.

\----

Louis’ sleep is suffering from the year twos. The past week Harry has watched him fall asleep earlier and earlier, because of waking up early to prep lessons for the class. His teacher he’s teaching with called out the last two days, causing Louis to do everything without warning.

Harry just wants to cuddle him and give him a cup of tea.

He realizes once Louis has fallen asleep that he forgot to prep his lunch for the next day. They got into a routine of doing them together at night, but seeing as Louis is literally passed out in Harry’s bed, Louis has no food for tomorrow.

He finishes up an assignment before untangling himself from Louis, to go make his lunch for him.

Louis won’t eat if he has no lunch packed and he needs to eat.

Harry trudges into the kitchen only to find Niall sitting on the counter, tub of ice cream in hand.

“Where’d you get that ice cream from?” Harry asks, eyeing the spoonful Niall is about to shove in his mouth.

Niall shrugs. “I hide it behind the vegetables every week.”

Harry stares at him. “You should learn to share.”

“No,” Niall laughs. “Didn’t I already see your lunch in there for tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Harry says as he takes out some of the pasta he had made for the rest of the week. “Louis fell asleep before he could make his though.”

Niall sucks on his spoon, quiet for a moment, before looking up at Harry. “Wow,” he laughs, gently. “You must really love him.”

And oh.

Oh shit.

Harry _knows_ . Like of course he's known, he's known for a while. He recognizes the feeling everywhere and anywhere when he’s with Louis. He knew it when they had their mutual lunch and he knew it when they got tattoos; of course he _knows._

But to have it voiced out loud for the first time, to actually hear the word ‘love’ in a place outside of his mind is a completely different story.

Harry's never going to be able to keep it in, now that he knows how good it sounds out loud.

\----

“Harry!” Louis screams, running into the flat like a madman. “Harold Edward Styles!”

Harry flings open the door to his room, eyes wide and hair askew.

Louis throws himself into Harry’s arms, Harry picking him up easily.

  
“What happened? What’s wrong?” Harry waits for Louis to pull his face out of the crook of his neck, confused at his bright smile and clear eyes.

“She’s pregnant! The teacher I’m with! They’re giving me her job!” Louis all but yells in Harry’s face as Harry’s eyes and smile grow into the biggest smile he’s ever seen. “I’m going to be the Year Two teacher next year!”

Harry squeezes him tighter spinning them around. “I’m so proud of you, Lou. I knew you could do it. God!” Louis laughs as Harry peppers his face with kisses. “Can’t believe how proud I am of you. Gonna graduate and already have a job.”

“It’s only for a year guaranteed. I figure it’s perfect, we’ve got a year here to save up, then we can see where it takes us, if it takes us to London,” Louis suggests as Harry lowers him down onto his feet, finally.

“Don’t care what we do, as long as we’re happy and we’re together. I’m so excited for you, love. So excited. You’re going to be the best teacher, Lou. The best,” Harry kisses him wetly.

They may or may not be tearing up.

“Can’t believe I’m so lucky to have you,” Louis says, kissing him again. He doesn’t trust himself to say anything else, because he knows the next words out of his mouth will be something he doesn’t want to say just yet.

Harry suddenly looks nervous. “I, um. I bought you something for this exact moment. Like when you would find out you have a job.”

Harry moves towards his closet as Louis watches him.

Christ, he’s the most beautiful boy Louis has ever seen in his life.

He pulls out a bag. A huge bag.

“Just, open it. There’s a lot of stuff in there.” Harry practically thrusts the bag at him.

Louis takes it, stomach filled with butterflies.

  
He sits on the bed opposite of Harry as he opens the bag.

His eyes fill with tears all over again until he’s full out crying.

There’s name tags, erasers, pencils, maps, baskets, children’s books, stickers, stamps, and all sorts of things that Louis would need in his first classroom.

“Don’t cry,” Harry leans forward wiping a tear from underneath Louis’ eyes. “You're making me cry.”

Louis laughs wetly. “You didn’t have to do this Harry.”

There’s a feeling again, so sure, so secure, and he knows it. Knows it with every fiber of his being as he stares at the boy in front of him, crying because Louis is crying, unbelievably supportive and happy for Louis.

“I did though. You’re supportive of me, and I’m supportive of you. That’s what we do, innit? Support each other?” Harry’s eyes are bright and his smile is the best thing Louis has seen.

Louis kisses him, wet, and oh so full of love. “Yes, love. That’s what we do.” He looks through some of the children’s books. “Now, read me a story Mr. Deep Voice. I’d love to hear it.”

Harry takes a book from him, and starts reading.

\----

The flat is dark when Harry walks in, Louis close behind him, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. As soon as the door shuts behind them, all the lights burst into life and Harry’s ears are assaulted with an abundance of noise.

“Surprise!” screams a whole group of people, who pop out from seemingly everywhere in the flat.

Liam, Niall, and Trevor are behind the kitchen counter holding balloons and silly string, which they promptly spray all over Harry. Gemma is holding a noisemaker and waving from behind the sofa. Harry spots some of his friends from both his majors, as well as a few of Louis’ friends from football, including Joe, Tom, and Matthew. They all already have drinks in hand.

When Harry gets a good look around, he sees the flat is completely decorated. It’s covered in fairy lights and balloons and streamers, all in the Leeds colors of green and red. When Louis turns around, Louis is holding out a sash that says ‘I’M A GRAD’ on it.

Harry’s smile is wild as he takes the sash from Louis and holds it up so he can see it. “Did you do all this?” he asks, gesturing around to the crowd of people who have emerged from their hiding spots and are quickly descending.

“Yup,” Louis says, smacking his lips on the last word. “Figured you deserved a little party for working so hard, and all. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Lou,” Harry says, and he blushes when he looks at Louis and says, “But you totally stole my thunder.”

“What?”

“I was going to throw you a surprise party for your graduation,” Harry admits, laughing when Louis grins so wide at him his eyes turn into little slits. “Though I guess I’ve got to come up with a new plan.”

Louis shakes his head, pulling Harry in for one last, quiet moment before Harry gets swept up in his guests and the party. “You don’t need to come up with anything, babe. You’re the best surprise I’ve ever gotten.”

Harry smiles into the kiss Louis pulls him into, wants to say the words into Louis’ mouth, but then he’s getting tugged away and accepting hugs from his friends and Gemma and then a Solo cup is being pressed into his hand and Niall starts up music and the rest of the evening becomes a blur.

But the one thing that stays steady, however, is that every time he smiles at Louis, Louis is smiling back.

\----

It’s a bit melancholy, the walk to Rusty’s for the last open mic night of the year. It’s a warm night, a gentle breeze blowing their hair around as they head to the pub. The semester is coming to a close. Harry is about to submit all his final work. Louis has a few more weeks to go before his courses end, and then that will be it. Harry will be a university graduate. Louis will have his master’s degree. Louis isn’t sure where the time went.

As it’s the last open mic night of the year, there is a healthy crowd gathered in the pub. There’s a queue at the line for the bar, and Niall and Trevor immediately head there to get drinks for the group. Louis, Liam, and Harry nudge their way to an empty table close to the stage. They drape their jackets over chairs and wait patiently for Niall and Trevor to return.

Harry was quiet the whole walk over, and he’s quiet now. Every time Louis has asked him if he’s alright, he’d just smiled slightly and promised he was fine. Even now, as the stage begins to form before their eyes as a microphone stand gets placed at the front and then a keyboard gets rolled out, Harry keeps to himself. He only takes a small sip of his pint before he stands abruptly.

“I’m going to go get ready,” he says to the table. He leans down and kisses Louis’ cheek. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

“Alright,” Louis nods, and pulls Harry in for a proper kiss.

Harry disappears behind the curtain, and all Louis is left to do is wait. He’d asked Harry what song he would be performing tonight, but Harry had been cagey. Not that it mattered, really. Sometimes Harry didn’t know what he’d be performing until the night of. Louis thinks it might be an original one this time. Harry had been so caught up in his compositions all year, but had only let Louis hear a few lines from a couple of them. That one song in particular had been kept under lock and key, both literally and metaphorically. He said that once he submitted them for a grade he’d let Louis listen to all of them, so Louis dropped it.

It’s another ten minutes before the first performer comes on stage. It seems like everyone is feeling the nostalgia of the night, the last one before the end of the year. Louis wonders how many of these kids will be back next year, and who’s moving on. He glances to Trevor and Liam; they’ll be moving to Bolton in a couple of months, Trevor getting hired as an assistant athletic trainer for the Wanderers and Liam getting hired at a posh independent school where he’ll be coaching and teaching physical education. Niall is fulfilling his dream of becoming a recluse in London, though Louis’ not sure if it really counts since he’ll be living with his cousin. And Harry and Louis will be staying here, for at least another year. It’s the end of an era, but the beginning of something new and bright in all their lives. He feels overwhelmed all of a sudden by the love he has for these boys and this city and one person in particular, who he wishes was right next to him.

The crowd is incredibly receptive to all the performers, giving loud applause and seeming to really enjoy the performances. It’s a good half hour later, and Harry still hasn’t come out to perform. Louis is beginning to get worried. He’s not sure why he disappeared so soon if he wasn’t going to perform right away. He has half a mind to get up and check on him, and then the boy in question appears.

Harry walks out on stage, and it's the first time Louis has ever seen Harry look nervous before a performance. He places his hands together, the spotlight catching on the rings on his fingers, and he bows his head with a smile. He doesn't have his guitar, and Louis is surprised when Harry takes a seat at the keyboard.

“Hello,” Harry greets into the microphone. He adjusts the height so it falls more in line with his mouth. “I'm Harry Styles.”

As usual, a smattering of applause breaks out and Harry grins, but it's muted. Like his focus isn't really on the crowd.

“Thank you. So, it's the last open mic night of the year, and my last one as a Leeds student because I'm graduating!” Even more applause breaks out, including a few cheers. “This has been such a wonderful opportunity for me. It's been such a special part of my life the last three years, so thank you all for coming out and listening to me. It's been humbling, and a privilege. I'm so grateful.”

Louis feels his eyes prickle a bit as he watches Harry speak. He knew this would be an emotional night for him. They're not sure if Harry will come back and perform any time soon, if ever, and open mic nights have been so important to him. They've kept him sane, long before Louis was ever in the picture, and he knows Harry is going to miss them like crazy.

Louis refocuses back on stage where Harry is pressing keys on the keyboard at random. “I've got one song for you tonight. It's an original, and very close to my heart. It started off as an assignment: I had to write something meaningful. And of course I was like, what the fuck does that even mean? It's so open-ended, right? And at first I didn't know how to tackle it but then… Then it became so clear. To write something meaningful, I had to think about what is important to me. The things that really mean something. And I realized it's not things. It's a person.”

Louis is pretty sure his heart stops right then and there. Next to him, he feels Liam, Trevor, and Niall looking at him. The rest of the pub is quiet, listening to Harry's every word. Louis’ palms begin to sweat and he drags them over the thighs of his jeans. Harry is looking at him now, eyes boring into Louis’ with intent.

This is it. This is _the_ song. The one Harry kept under lock and key.

“This person… This incredible, wonderful, funny, lovely person has taught me so much. And a year ago I didn't even know he existed. And nine months ago if you told me I'd be sitting here playing a song I wrote for him I would have said you were crazy. So much of my life isn't certain. I'm not sure what I'll be doing a year from now. I'm not sure where I'll be. But I know who I'll be with, and I've never been so excited for the rest of my life.”

Louis hears a few _awww_ ’s from the crowd, and next to him he knows that the rest of the lads are waiting with bated breath. And Harry still hasn't taken his eyes off Louis.

“I used to think that home was a place. Where you slept and kept your things. A place to decorate. But it wasn't until this year that I realized I had it wrong. In a really short span of time, maybe _too_ short for some people, home stopped being a place. It's a person. It's you.” He says the last bit to Louis.

Louis thinks he hears Niall choke back a sob. Other people in the pub are looking right at Louis. A few people point. Louis still can't breathe, blood rushing through his ears. He can't think.

“I got this as an assignment, but I think I've been waiting my entire life to write it. I hope you enjoy it. It's called If I Could Fly.”

Slow, even notes start echoing around the silent pub as Harry begins to play. His head is bowed, curls hiding his face, but Louis can see his eyes are closed and his mouth poised near the mic.

Suddenly, Harry's voice comes through the speakers. “If I could fly, I'd be coming right back home to you. I think I might give up everything, just ask me to.”

Louis wants to cry. It's… It's _beautiful_. Harry is beautiful. He wishes he could touch him right now, curses the space separating them. His ears strain to hear every note, every breath Harry takes, every catch in his voice. His slow, deep voice rattles in Louis’ chest as he sings. Harry keeps his head bent, completely immersed in the song. He doesn't look up once.

Louis’ brain whirs as it settles on certain lines.

_Right now I'm completely defenseless._

_For your eyes only, I show you my heart._

_And pain gets hard, but now you're here and I don't feel a thing._

_I can feel your heart inside mine._

_Now you know me, for your eyes only._

Harry finishes the song on some simple notes, just his voice crooning out the final words: “For your eyes only.” The last notes settle over the pub like a blanket. For a second, no one moves. Then, Harry looks up. And the pub explodes.

Louis can vaguely hear Harry say “thank you” into the mic, but it's completely muffled by the cheers and whistles and clapping. Niall is definitely crying, clapping like mad and wiping at his eyes. Liam is smiling, eyes crinkled, and is clapping with his arms over his head. Trevor has a hand snaked around Liam's waist and is whistling.

“Thank you so much,” Harry says. “I love you all.”

He stands up and bows his head once more before disappearing behind the curtain.

Louis just… He needs to get to him. He bolts before he can think about it. He runs to the stage and hops up, pulling the curtain aside before the next performer comes up.

Behind the curtain is a wooden door. Beyond that is really just a small back room, the size of a small employee lounge. A few guitars are propped up on stands. A case is open on a table with extra microphones and wires. The room is completely empty, except for Harry standing directly on the other side of the door. He jumps when he hears movement, eyes startled and wide until he sees who it is.

“Hey, Lou,” he greets, smiling bashfully. He holds out a hand, pulling Louis closer to him.

Louis doesn't reply, just grabs onto Harry’s hand and crushes their bodies together. He tangles his fingers in Harry's hair and presses their foreheads together. “You wrote me a song,” he whispers.

“I wrote you a song,” Harry confirms. His eyes are closed. “Is that… Is that okay?”

The tears that threatened to break through while Harry was performing actually do break through. He feels a tear break from his watery eyes and he shudders a breath.

At the sound of this, Harry's eyes jolt open and he looks Louis over in alarm. He runs his hands over Louis’ shoulders. “Baby, what's wrong?”

Louis just shakes his head and leans up. He kisses Harry softly, barely applying any pressure at all. It's wet and messy and _perfect_. He shuts his eyes and against Harry's lips he says, “I love you.”

Harry sucks in a breath at that and then Louis feels Harry's own eyes fill with tears. It's through a crackly voice that Harry says, “And I love you.”

When they kiss, they meet in the middle. Louis keeps his fingers in Harry's hair and Harry grips Louis’ shoulders hard enough to bruise, but they cling together in the quiet back room with the whirring and bubbling of a water cooler across the room and the distant sound of the pub behind the curtain.

It doesn't matter because that space Louis was cursing just ten minutes before… It's gone now.

There's not enough space left in the universe to get between him and Harry.

\----

Harry gets an email the next day, with a simple Job Interest in the subject line.

He scans the email quickly, heart beating rapidly before reading it one more time just to be sure.

  
“What’s going on?” Niall asks, peering over his shoulder at the table. Louis and Liam pop their heads up from the couch.

“There was a small indie company at the show last night. This one guy asked for my contact information before we left. I totally forgot about it.” He glances over at Louis, heart warming when he sees Louis smiling at him. “They want me to send in my resume and a few samples for an entry level writing position. They really enjoyed my song,” Harry says a little breathlessly. “It’s right here in Leeds. They’re family run,” Harry reads off their website. “It seems really nice.”

“Well then what the hell are you waiting for?!” Niall slaps him on the back.

“Give him time,” Louis rolls his eyes. “Let him decide.”

“That song made me cry, I’m sure it made them cry, and think about it. You can write songs about Louis for the rest of your life and make everyone cry for a living,” Liam suggests.

Everyone looks at him.

“Are you high?” Niall asks.

Liam laughs. “Yeah, little bit.”

They all erupt into raucous laughter, Harry reads up and sends his resume, and they all get high. It’s a great day to end out their time at Leeds.

Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever forget it.

\----

“I got it!” Harry yells as soon as he gets the email, waking Louis up.

“Wha’?” Louis asks sleepily.

“I got it! The job! They loved me! They loved the interview! I have a job!” Harry cheers, eyes wide in disbelief.

Louis shoots up out of the bed. “You’ve got the job?”

“I got the job! I’m a writer!” Harry tells him excitedly, kissing him right on the mouth, so fast that Louis doesn’t even react to it.

“We both have jobs in the same place Lou! We can move in. Let’s do it, right now,”  Harry rambles, too hyped to even process the words coming out of his mouth.

“It as in sex? Because I’m all for that right now,” Louis smirks as Harry scrambles around the room for his laptop.

“No, let’s put an offer for the flat. Right now. Let’s do it. We’ve both got jobs officially. We graduate in two days. Come on, love. Let’s start our life together.” Harry grabs Louis’ hands and holds them, eyes boring into Louis’ bright, surprised eyes.

“Okay,” Louis says, smiling a smile that makes Harry fall in love again. “Only because I love you and I’m so very, very proud of you, Curly. You have no idea how much you deserve this.”

Harry’s eyes soften and he knows he won’t ever tire of hearing that, or saying it. “I love you,” he smiles. “Now, come on, let’s put an offer on a flat.”

\-----

“Do you think this she’d like this color?” Harry asks, trying out a peach shade of lipstick on his hand, like he’s seen Gemma and his mum do a thousand times before.

“I don’t know,” Louis says exasperatedly. “How come this shit is £15?”

Harry laughs. “Lou, you know she’s been excited about this lip line coming out. We just need to buy one for Lottie and maybe like a cute bracelet or something for Fizzy at that boutique next door.”

Louis sighs and eyes up the samples Harry has on his hand. Maybe he should be a bit embarrassed that Harry knows more about his sisters’ makeup preferences than he does, but Louis also doesn’t know the difference between foundation and powder so he’s not too bothered by it. He looks down at Harry’s rainbow hand and says, “Go with the violet then. She’ll like it better.”

Harry smiles proudly and takes it to the counter. The girl behind the register giggles when she sees his hand colored in with different lipsticks and hands him a makeup removing wipe. She bags their items and they exit with their new gifts in tow. Harry looks genuinely excited about them.

The shop next door has custom jewelry hanging from racks and displays, and they eye up the ruby display, Louis thinking they could get something with Fizzy’s birthstone. They settle on a matching ring and bangle set, and Louis thinks they’re in the clear when they pass a baby boutique.

Harry stops short in front of it, eyes lighting up before grabbing hold of Louis’ hand and dragging him in without a second thought.

He walks right up to the nautical themed outfits, picking out one for Doris and one for Ernie.

Louis stares. “Harry,” he cautions.

“Look how adorable this is,” Harry says as he shakes one of the outfits in front of Louis’ face. It's dark blue with white anchors on the shorts, the colors inverted for the top.

Louis eyes up the outfit and thinks fondly to the matching tattoos he and Harry now sport. He knows they'll be buying the outfits before they leave the shop, but he still gives an incredulous laugh.

“It's very cute,” he agrees, mock exasperated.

“Look,” Harry picks up a red and white striped headband with a bow on it. “There’s even a headband for Doris.”

It’s really fucking cute. “Okay, okay. The nautical theme is very cute,” Louis admits.

“You better think it’s cute,” Harry jokes. His eyes are very serious though. “Our kids will have a very nautical themed nursery.”

Louis’ heart hammers. Harry is smiling at him fondly, and he can’t help but return it with a raised eyebrow. “Oh really? I don’t have a choice in the matter when it’s our children, not just yours?”

Harry giggles. “Nope,” he shakes his head. “Because I know you were already thinking the same thing.”

Louis blushes. “I was thinking the duvets would be navy with white anchors. Just like the shorts.”

“See!” Harry points a finger at him. “I knew it. You’re a big old sap who wants babies in the house.”

Louis steps closer to Harry, cocking his hip out. “Clearly. I want lots of babies. Came from a litter of them, wouldn’t you think I’d want a whole lot of them?”

Harry turns pink. “I know, I know but like. Me too.”

Louis grabs at the outfit behind Harry, trying to reach over to find Ernie’s size. “Who would have thought we’d be here in the middle of a baby boutique talking about having our own children almost a year ago?”

Harry laughs. “I would have told you that you were insane. Absolutely insane.”

Louis finds Ernie’s size while Harry turns and digs for Doris’. “I probably would have told you to fuck off, and that anyone with a stick up their ass as far as yours would be light years away from happening,” Louis smirk becomes filthy. “Turns out you just needed something else in your ass,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Harry guffaws and slaps Louis on the arm. It’s loud in the quiet shop, and one of the workers pops her head around a display. They quickly turn around and giggle into the clothes hanging from the wall. “And here I was going to say, I was so wrong about you. You only smoke once in awhile, and you’ve never dealt except for that one time.”

“Oi!” Louis squawks. “Enough teasing. Thought you were gorgeous the first time I saw you,” Louis steps into Harry’s space again. “Knew there was something about you that I wouldn’t be able to stay away from.”

Harry leans in. “Thought you were the hottest convict I’d ever seen.”

Louis pushes at his shoulder, causing Harry to bump into the racks of clothes. “You’re going to get it for this defamation of character.”

Harry makes a face. “Big words there, little one.”

Louis narrows his eyes. “Take the outfits and let’s go. There’s scarves with your name on them, mouthy.”

Harry freezes. “God, Lou, we’re in a baby shop,” he whispers. “You can’t say shit like that.”

The worker who had been eyeing them up earlier throws them a look while they pay.

It’s totally worth it.

\----

**One year later…**

“You fuckers have accumulated so much shit in the last year,” Niall huffs out as he unceremoniously drops a box in the living room. “We didn't have this much shit when it was the _four_ of us.”

Louis rolls his eyes and whacks him in the arm with his wad of packing paper. “Shut it and move your arse, Horan. You're holding up the line.”

“Fucking move, Niall,” Liam yells from behind a box of what Louis assumes is kitchenware, if the way Liam is panting is any indicator. He puts the box down gently next to the other group of boxes.

They really do have a lot of shit.

Harry walks up with all the photos - one from their first group dinner in Harry and Louis’ first flat, ones of Louis with his students from last year, a selfie of Louis and Harry from the Paris vacation Harry had surprised Louis with for Valentine’s Day, a group shot of both their families all piled into one photo together - all framed and ready to be hung up in their new flat.

“You’d think you two would be happy now that we’re in the same city,” Harry tells them, then looks at Liam. “Well, some of us.”

Liam glares. “Who knows, we may end up wandering south, too. You think they need a coach at your new fancy private school, Lou? We could teach at the same school.”

“Who’s Trevor gonna work for, Arsenal?” Niall says with a scoff as he disappears into the kitchen.

Louis ignores him, cutting into a tape box labeled ‘Living Room Shit’. “Leemo, that sounds brilliant. I suggest you move right away. We can wreak havoc on the school together. I’ll take the primary school kids and you can take the secondary and college kids.”

Liam laughs. “Don’t forget the music teacher; Niall, if we can ever convince him. “

“You can’t!” Niall calls from the kitchen, where he’s already stored a case of beer in the refrigerator. “I’m too happy producing music. Though, maybe now that Harry’s in London too I can produce some of his songs.”

“Niall, I already told you. I just transferred within the company to London, I didn’t transfer jobs. You’ll still have to go through the company to get the songs.”

Niall curses. “Don’t worry. My people will call your people.”

“Get out of our fridge you git!” Louis yells at him, throwing a pillow. “And leave Harry’s love songs for me alone.”

Liam and Niall roll their eyes. “Stop sending us samples in the groupchat, then,” Liam suggests.

Louis looks at Harry. “Can you believe them? In our own home they dare insult us.”

“Can’t believe it,” Harry shakes his head. He looks down at his watch. “Now, go pick up lunch, it should be ready. We’ve got to christen the place.” He walks over to Louis and palms at his arse in full view of Niall and Liam for effect.

Louis cackles as Liam and Niall gag and retreat from the living room, Niall grabbing Harry’s wallet on the way out.

“Fucking Niall,” Harry mutters.

“Do you have plates?” Liam asks, looking around at the piles of boxes surrounding them on the floor.

Louis and Harry pause. “Uh,” Louis mumbles. “They're…here. Somewhere.”

Harry looks around. “Maybe pick up some plates, too.”

“I’ve already got the wallet,” Niall chimes in from down the hall.

Liam smiles. “Cheers.” He makes his exit, navigating around the boxes, and the front door slams shut behind them.

Finally, they’re alone.

In their brand new London flat that they’ve been waiting for for the last couple of months.

Harry was able to get transferred and Louis accepted a position at a posh private school in London that he absolutely fell in love with. It meant saying goodbye to Leeds, and moving further away from their families - a decision that they didn’t take lightly. After all, Leeds was where they met. And where they fell in love.

But London is new and exciting, filled with new people and different sights and a new chapter in their life together. Harry has new decorations packed away, ready to be unveiled as they get everything situated (a few nautical items may or may not have made their way into the basket when they went shopping). They had known it the second they had stepped into it: this was the flat for them. It’s far enough away from the hustle and bustle that they can lock themselves up when they want to be alone, but it’s near enough the Underground that they shouldn’t have a problem getting around. This flat is bigger than their last one, and quite frankly sturdier, but it’s still small. It’s quaint. It’s got character, brick walls and hardwood floors and an open living room that leads to a small balcony. Louis knows they’ll have to make some adjustments. Harry has his eye on replacing some of the doorknobs, and at some point they’ll likely need to repaint the living room, but all of that is secondary to the feeling they get as they look around their new space.

They’ll make it feel like home.

In the silence that follows Liam and Niall’s exit from the flat, Louis takes a moment to breathe in. He nudges Harry as they examine the disaster that is their flat. “You excited?”

Harry turns to him. He’s got dust caking his black T-shirt and his arm has a bruise growing from where Niall accidentally slammed a coat rack into it on the way up the lift. His eyes are _green green green_ in the dodgy overhead light (that’ll need replacing, too) and he’s got sweat frizzing the baby curls along his hairline. He’s gorgeous. “Living in London with my boy who I love very much? What’s there not to be excited about?”

Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and leans in, kissing him slowly. “A brand new adventure, innit?”

Harry kisses him back. “It is,” he agrees, bumping their foreheads together.

Louis looks up at Harry. The next words come easy. “That is, until we have a family home, of course.”

Harry’s answering smile is blinding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Come yell at us on Tumblr at nooelgallagher and yoursongonmyheart.
> 
> If you're interested, here are the songs mentioned in the fic:
> 
> For the First Time - The Script (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CPEBN2dVNUY)  
> Happily (Acoustic) - One Direction (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uUVpJcyEQr8)  
> Goodbye to You (Acoustic) - Michelle Branch (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ubZbYHj0kjM)  
> DJ Got Us Fallin' in Love - Usher ft. Pitbull (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-dvTjK_07c)  
> Talk Dirty - Jason Derulo ft. 2 Chainz (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RbtPXFlZlHg)  
> No Diggity - Blackstreet ft. Dr. Dre and Queen Pen (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3KL9mRus19o)  
> I Wanna Sex You Up - Color Me Badd (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kO6BtpIzIiM)  
> Landslide - Fleetwood Mac (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WM7-PYtXtJM) (or if you're like Vicky and prefer the Dixie Chicks version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J4_wXPZ1Bnk)  
> Rhythm Divine - Enrique Iglesias (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZrzOZaI7UE)  
> Your Body is a Wonderland - John Mayer (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N5EnGwXV_Pg)  
> Barely Breathing - Duncan Sheik (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0TLK-i2X9zw)  
> Missing You - Tyler Hilton (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHhBhExFiPg)  
> If I Could Fly - One Direction (don't even play like you haven't heard this before, but check out Nuetful's cover of it if you want an idea of how it would sound on a solo piano: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D1JM9d-jU6c)

**Author's Note:**

> the post for this fic can be found here


End file.
